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Wiil.lt1'!  Ill  J.  I!  OCK6 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


WHERE   LOVE    IS 


BY 

WILLIAM    J.   LOCKE 


"Bettef  is  a  dinner  of  herbs  where  love  is,  than  a  stalled  *x 
and  hatred  therewith" 

The  Proverbs  of  Solomon 


New  York 
GROSSET  &   DUNLAP 

Publishers 


Copyright,  1903 
BY  JOHN  LANE 


PA 


Chapter 

I.  THE  FIRST  GLIMPSE I 

II.  THE  FOOL'S  WISDOM 14 

III.  A  MODERN   BETROTHAL 27 

IV.  THE  GREAT  FROCK  EPISODE 38 

V.  A  BROKEN  BUTTERFLY 50 

VI.  THE  LOVERS 66 

VII.  A  MAD   PROPHET 79 

VIII.  HER  SERENE  HIGHNESS 86 

IX.  SENTIMENTAL  EDUCATION 98 

X.  Two  IDYLLS 117 

XI.  DANGER 133 

XII.  NORMA'S   ENLIGHTENMENT      , 146 

XIII.  THE  OPTIMIST  AT  LARGE 158 

XIV.  THE  BUBBLE   REPUTATION 169 

XV.  MRS.    HARDACRE  LAUGHS 183 

XVI.  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 197 

XVII.  THE  INCURABLE  MALADY 206 

XVIII.  A  RUDDERLESS  SHIP 222 

XIX.  ABANA  AND  PHARPAR 237 

XX.  ALINE  PREPARES  FOR  BATTLE 250 

XXI.  THE  MOTH  MEETS  THE  STAR           261 


885406 


Contents 

Chapter  Page 

XXII.  CATASTROPHE 274 

XXIII.  NORMA'S  HOUR 288 

XXIV.  MRS.   HARDACRE  FORGETS 301 

XXV.  THE  LAND  OF  ENCHANTMENT 311 

XXVI.  EARTH  AGAIN 324 

XXVII.  A  DINNER  OF  HERBS           337 

XXVIII.  THE  WORD  OF  ALINE 348 


WHERE   LOVE    IS 


WHERE    LOVE    IS 

Chapter   I 
THE   FIRST   GLIMPSE 

"  TT    T  AVE  you  dined  at  Ranelagh  lately  ? "  asked  Norma 

I 1     Hardacre. 

-•-  -*-  "  I  have  never  been  there  in  my  life,"  replied 
Jimmie  Padgate.  "  In  fact,"  he  added  simply,  "  I  am  not 
quite  sure  whether  I  know  where  it  is." 

"Yours  is  the  happier  state.  It  is  one  of  the  dullest 
spots  in  a  dull  world." 

"  Then  why  on  earth  do  people  go  there  ?  " 

The  enquiry  was  so  genuine  that  Miss  Hardacre  relaxed 
her  expression  of  handsome  boredom  and  laughed. 

"  Because  we  are  all  like  the  muttons  of  Panurge," 
she  said.  "  Where  one  goes,  all  go.  Why  are  we  here 
to-night  ?  " 

"To  enjoy  ourselves.  How  could  one  do  otherwise  in 
Mrs.  Deering's  house  ?  " 

"  You  have  known  her  a  long  time,  I  believe,"  remarked 
Norma,  taking  the  opportunity  of  directing  the  conversa- 
tion to  a  non-contentious  topic. 

"  Since  she  was  in  short  frocks.  She  is  a  cousin  of 
King's  —  that 's  the  man  who  took  you  down  to  dinner  —  " 

She  nodded.  "  I  have  known  Mr.  King  many  weary 
ages." 

i  i 


Where  Love  Is 

"  And  he  has  never  told  me  about  you  !  " 

"  Why  should  he  ?  " 

She  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  with  the  stony  calm  of 
the  fashionable  young  woman  accustomed  to  take  excellent 
care  of  herself.  Her  companion  met  her  stare  in  whim- 
sical confusion.  Even  so  ingenuous  a  being  as  Jimmie 
Padgate  could  not  tell  a  girl  he  had  met  for  the  first  time 
that  she  was  beautiful,  adorable,  and  graced  with  divine 
qualities  above  all  women,  and  that  intimate  acquaintance 
with  her  must  be  the  startling  glory  of  a  lifetime. 

"  If  I  had  known  you  for  ages,"  he  replied  prudently, 
"  I  should  have  mentioned  your  name  to  Morland  King." 

u  Are  you  such  friends  then  ?  " 

"  Fast  friends :  we  were  at  school  together,  and  as  I  was 
a  lonely  little  beggar  I  used  to  spend  many  of  my  holidays 
with  his  people.  That  is  how  I  knew  Mrs.  Deering  in 
short  frocks." 

"  It 's  odd,  then,  that  I  have  n't  met  you  about  before,"  said 
the  girl,  giving  him  a  more  scrutinising  glance  than  she  had 
hitherto  troubled  to  bestow  upon  him.  A  second  after- 
wards she  felt  that  her  remark  might  have  been  in  the 
nature  of  an  indiscretion,  for  her  companion  had  not  at 
all  the  air  of  a  man  moving  in  the  smart  world  to  which 
she  belonged.  His  dress-suit  was  old  and  of  lamentable 
cut ;  his  shirt-cuffs  were  frayed ;  a  little  bone  stud,  threaten- 
ing every  moment  to  slip  the  button-hole,  precariously 
secured  his  shirt-front.  His  thin,  iron-grey  hair  was  un- 
tidy ;  his  moustache  was  ragged,  innocent  of  wax  or  tongs 
or  any  of  the  adventitious  aids  to  masculine  adornment. 
His  aspect  gave  the  impression,  if  not  of  poverty,  at  least 
of  narrow  means  and  humble  ways  of  life.  Although  he 
had  sat  next  her  at  dinner,  she  had  paid  little  attention  to 

2 


The  First  Glimpse 

him,  finding  easier  entertainment  in  her  conversation  with 
King  on  topics  of  common  interest,  than  in  possible  argu- 
ment with  a  strange  man  whom  she  heard  discussing  the 
functions  of  art  and  other  such  head-splitting  matters  with 
his  right-hand  neighbour.  Indeed,  her  question  about 
Ranelagh  when  she  found  him  by  her  side,  kter,  in  the 
drawing-room  was  practically  the  first  she  had  addressed  to 
him  with  any  show  of  interest. 

She  hastened  to  repair  her  maladroit  observation  by  add- 
ing before  he  could  reply,  — 

"  That  is  rather  an  imbecile  thing  to  say  considering 
the  millions  of  people  in  London.  But  one  is  apt  to  talk 
in  an  imbecile  manner  after  a  twelve  hours'  day  of  hard 
racket  in  the  season.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  One's  stock  of 
ideas  gets  used  up,  like  the  air  at  the  end  of  a  dance." 

"  Not  if  you  keep  your  soul  properly  ventilated,"  he 
answered. 

The  words  were,  perhaps,  not  so  arresting  as  the  man- 
ner in  which  they  were  uttered.  Norma  Hardacre  was 
startled.  A  little  shutter  in  the  back  of  her  mind  seemed 
to  have  flashed  open  for  an  elusive  second,  and  revealed  a 
prospect  wide,  generous,  alive  with  free-blowing  airs. 
Then  all  was  dark  again  before  she  could  realise  the  vision. 
She  was  disconcerted,  and  in  a  much  more  feminine  way 
than  was  habitual  with  her  she  glanced  at  him  again.  This 
time  she  lost  sight  of  the  poor,  untidy  garments,  and  found 
a  sudden  interest  in  the  man's  kind,  careworn  face,  and  his 
eyes,  wonderfully  blue  and  bright,  set  far  apart  in  the  head, 
that  seemed  to  look  out  on  the  world  with  a  man's  courage 
and  a  child's  confidence.  She  was  uncomfortably  conscious 
of  being  in  contact  with  a  personality  widely  different  from 
that  of  her  usual  masculine  associates.  This  her  training 

3 


Where  Love  Is 

and  habit  of  mind  caused  her  to  resent ;  despising  the  faint 
spiritual  shock,  she  took  refuge  in  flippancy. 

"  I  fear  our  Tobin  tubes  get  choked  up  in  London,"  she 
said  with  a  little  laugh.  "  Even  if  they  did  n't  they  are 
wretched  things,  which  create  draughts;  so  anyway  our 
souls  are  free  from  chills.  Look  at  that  woman  over  there 
talking  to  Captain  Orton  —  every  one  knows  he's  pay- 
master-general. A  breath  of  fresh  air  in  Mrs.  Chance's 
soul  would  give  it  rheumatic  fever." 

The  abominable  slander  falling  cynically  from  young  lips 
brought  a  look  of  disapproval  into  Jimmie  Padgate's  eyes. 

"  Why  do  you  say  such  things  ? "  he  asked.  "  You 
know  you  don't  believe  them." 

"  I  do  believe  them,"  she  replied  defiantly.  "  Why 
shouldn't  one  believe  the  bad  things  one  hears  of  one's 
neighbours  ?  It 's  a  vastly  more  entertaining  faith  than 
belief  in  their  virtues.  Virtue — being  its  own  reward  — 
is  deadly  stale  to  one's  friends  and  unprofitable  to  oneself." 

"  Cynicism  seems  cheap  to-day,"  said  Jimmie,  with  a 
smile  that  redeemed  his  words  from  impertinence.  "  Won't 
you  give  me  something  of  yourself  a  little  more  worth 
having  ?  " 

Norma,  who  was  leaning  back  in  her  chair  fanning  her- 
self languidly,  suddenly  bent  forward,  with  curious  anima- 
tion in  her  cold  face. 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  are  or  what  you  are,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  Why  should  you  want  more  than  the  ordi- 
nary futilities  of  after-dinner  talk  ?  " 

"  Because  one  has  only  to  look  at  you,"  he  replied,  "  to 
see  that  it  must  be  very  easy  to  get.  You  have  beauty 
inside  as  well  as  outside,  and  everybody  owes  what  is  beau- 
tiful and  good  in  them  to  their  fellow-creatures." 

4 


The  First  Glimpse 

"  I  don't  see  why.  According  to  you,  women  ought  to 
go  about  like  mediaeval  saints." 

"  Every  woman  is  a  saint  in  the  depths  of  her  heart," 
said  Jimmie. 

"You  are  an  astonishing  person,"  replied  Norma. 

The  conversation  ended  there,  for  Morland  King  came 
up  with  Constance  Deering  :  he  florid,  good-looking,  per- 
fectly groomed  and  dressed,  the  type  of  the  commonplace, 
well-fed,  affluent  Briton ;  she  a  pretty,  fragile  butterfly  of  a 
woman.  Jimmie  rose  and  was  led  off  to  another  part  of 
the  room  by  his  hostess.  King  dropped  into  the  chair 
Jimmie  had  vacated. 

"  I  see  you  have  been  sampling  my  friend  Jimmie 
Padgate.  What  do  you  make  of  him  ?  " 

"I  have  just  told  him  he  was  an  astonishing  person," 
said  Norma. 

"  Dear  old  Jimmie  !  He  's  the  best  fellow  in  the  world," 
said  King,  laughing.  "A  bit  Bohemian  and  eccentric  — 
artists  generally  are  —  " 

"  Oh,  he 's  an  artist  ?  "  inquired  Norma. 

"  He  just  manages  to  make  a  living  by  it,  poor  old  chap  ! 
He  has  never  come  off,  somehow." 

"  Another  neglected  genius  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  replied  Morland  King  in  a 
matter-of-fact  way,  not  detecting  the  sneer  in  the  girl's 
tone.  "  I  don't  think  he  's  a  great  swell  —  I  'm  no  judge, 
you  know.  But  he  has  had  a  bad  time.  Anyway,  he 
always  comes  up  smiling.  The  more  he  gets  knocked  the 
more  cheerful  he  seems  to  grow.  I  never  met  any  one  like 
him.  The  most  generous,  simple-minded  beggar  living." 

"  He  must  be  wonderful  to  make  you  enthusiastic,"  said 
Norma. 

5 


Where  Love  Is 

"  Look  at  him  now,  talking  to  the  Chance  woman  as  if 
she  were  an  angel  of  light." 

Norma  glanced  across  the  room  and  smiled  contempt- 
uously. 

"  She  seems  to  like  it.  She  's  preening  herself  as  if  the 
wings  were  already  grown.  Connie,"  she  called  to  her 
hostess,  who  was  passing  by,  "  why  have  you  hidden  Mr. 
Padgate  from  me  all  this  time  ?  " 

The  butterfly  lady  laughed.  "  He  is  too  precious.  I 
can  only  afford  to  give  my  friends  a  peep  at  him  now  and 
then.  I  want  to  keep  him  all  to  myself." 

She  fluttered  away.  Norma  leaned  back  and  hid  a  yawn 
with  her  fan ;  then,  rousing  herself  with  an  effort,  made 
conversation  with  her  companion.  Presently  another  man 
came  up  and  King  retired. 

"  How  is  it  getting  on  ?  "  whispered  Mrs.  Deering. 

"  Oh,  steady,"  he  replied  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  Lucky  man  !  " 

Morland  King  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "The  only 
thing  against  it  is  papa  and  mamma  —  chiefly  mamma. 
A  Gorgon  of  a  woman  !  " 

"  You  '11  never  get  a  wife  to  do  you  more  credit  than 
Norma.  With  that  face  I  wonder  she  is  n't  a  duchess  by 
now.  There  was  a  duke  once,  but  a  fair  American 
eagle  came  and  swooped  him  off"  under  Norma's  nose. 
You  see,  she  's  not  the  sort  of  girl  to  give  a  man  much 
encouragement." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  stand  a  woman  who  throws  herself  at  your 
head,"  said  King,  emphatically. 

"  What  a  funny  way  men  have  nowadays  of  confess- 
ing to  the  tender  passion  !  "  said  Mrs.  Deering,  laughing. 

"  What    would    you    have   a    fellow    do  ? "    he    asked. 

6 


The  First  Glimpse 

"  Spout  blank  verse  about  the  stars  and  things,  like  a 
Shakespearean  hero  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  prettier,  anyhow." 

«  Well,  if  you  will  have  it,  I  'm  about  as  hard  hit  as  a 
man  ever  was  —  there  !  " 

"  I  'm  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  his  cousin. 

A  short  while  afterwards  the  dinner-party  broke  up. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  care  to  mix  with  utter 
worldlings  like  us,  Mr.  Padgate,"  said  Norma,  as  she  bade 
him  good-bye,  "  but  we  are  always  in  on  Tuesdays." 

"  I  '11  tie  him  hand  and  foot  and  bring  him,"  said  King. 
"  Good-night,  old  chap.  I  'm  giving  Miss  Hardacre  a  lift 
home  in  the  brougham." 

Before  Jimmie  could  say  yes  or  no,  they  were  gone.  He 
found  himself  the  last. 

"  You  are  certainly  not  going  for  another  hour,  Jimmie," 
said  Mrs.  Deering,  as  he  came  forward  to  take  leave. 
"  You  will  sit  in  that  chair  and  smoke  and  tell  me  all 
about  yourself  and  make  me  feel  good  and  pretty." 

"Very  well,"  he  assented,  laughing.  "Turn  me  out 
when  it's  time  for  me  to  go." 

-It  had  been  the  customary  formula  between  them  for 
many  years ;  for  Jimmie  Padgate  lacked  the  sense  of  time 
and  kept  eccentric  hours,  and  although  Connie  Deering 
delighted  in  her  rare  confidential  chats  with  him,  a  woman 
with  a  heavy  morrow  of  engagements  must  go  to  bed  at  a 
reasonable  period  of  the  night.  She  was  a  woman  in  the 
middle  thirties,  a  childless  widow  after  a  brief  and  almost 
forgotten  married  life,  rich,  pleasure-loving,  in  the  inner 
circle  of  London  society,  and  possessing  the  gayest,  kind- 
est, most  charitable  heart  in  the  world.  Her  friendship 
with  Norma  Hardacre  had  been  a  thing  of  recent  date. 

7 


Where  Love  Is 

She  had  cultivated  it  first  on  account  of  her  cousin  Morland 
King ;  she  had  ended  in  enthusiastic  admiration. 

"  It  is  awfully  good  of  you,"  she  said,  when  they  were 
comfortably  settled  down  to  talk,  "  to  waste  your  time  with 
my  unintelligent  conversation." 

"  There  's  no  such  thing  as  unintelligent  conversation,'* 
he  declared. 

"  For  a  man  like  you  there  must  be." 

"  I  could  hold  an  intelligent  conversation  with  a  rabbit," 
said  Jimmie. 

Norma  Hardacre,  on  arriving  home,  entered  the  drawing- 
room,  where  her  mother  was  reading  a  novel. 

"  WeH  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Hardacre,  looking  up. 

Norma  threw  her  white  silk  cloak  over  the  back  of  a  chair. 

"  Connie  sent  her  love  to  you." 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  ?  "  asked  her  mother, 
sharply.  She  was  a  faded  woman  who  had  once  possessed 
beauty  of  a  cold,  severe  type ;  but  the  years  had  pinched 
and  hardened  her  features,  as  they  had  pinched  and  hardened 
her  heart.  Her  eyes  were  of  that  steel  grey  which  the 
light  of  laughter  seldom  softens,  and  her  smile  was  but  a 
contraction  of  the  muscles  of  the  lips.  Even  this  perfunc- 
tory tribute  to  politeness  which  had  greeted  Norma's  en- 
trance vanished  at  the  second  question. 

"  Morland  King  drove  me  home.  What  a  difference  there 
is  between  a  private  brougham  and  the  beastly  things  we 
get  from  the  livery-stable  !  " 

"  He  has  said  nothing  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not.     I  should  have  told  you  if  he  had." 

"  Whose  fault  is  it  ?  " 

Norma  made  a  gesture  of  impatience.  "  My  fault,  if 

8 


The  First  Glimpse 

you  like.  I  don't  lay  traps  to  catch  him.  I  don't  keep 
him  dangling  about  me,  and  I  don't  flatter  his  vanities  or 
make  appeal  to  his  senses,  I  suppose.  I  can't  do  it." 

"  Don't  behave  like  a  fool,  Norma,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre, 
rapping  her  book  with  a  paper-knife.  "You  have  got  to 
marry  him.  You  know  you  have.  Your  father  and  I 
are  coming  to  the  end  of  things.  You  ought  to  have 
married  years  ago,  and  when  one  thinks  of  the  chances  you 
have  missed,  it  makes  one  mad.  Here  have  we  been 
pinching  and  scraping  —  " 

"  And  borrowing  and  mortgaging,"  Norma  interjected. 

"  —  to  give  you  a  brilliant  position,"  Mrs.  Hardacre  con- 
tinued, unheeding  the  interruption,  "and  you  cast  all  our 
efforts  in  our  teeth.  It 's  sheer  ingratitude.  Why  you 
threw  over  Lord  Wyniard  I  could  never  make  out." 

"  You  seem  to  forget  that,  after  all,  there  is  a  physical 
side  to  marriage,"  said  Norma,  with  a  little  shudder  of 
disgust. 

"  I  hate  indelicacy  in  young  girls,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre, 
freezingly.  "  One  would  think  you  had  been  brought  up 
in  a  public  house."  v 

"  Then  let  us  avoid  indelicate  subjects,"  retorted  Norma, 
opening  the  first  book  to  her  hand.  "  Where  is  papa  ?  " 

"  Oh,  how  should  I  know  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Hardacre,  irritably. 

There  was  silence.  Norma  pretended  to  read,  but  her 
thoughts,  away  from  the  printed  lines,  caused  her  face  to 
harden  and  her  lips  to  curl  scornfully.  She  had  been  used 
to  such  scenes  with  her  mother  ever  since  she  had  worn  a 
long  frock,  and  that  was  seven  years  ago,  when  she  came 
out  as  a  young  beauty  of  eighteen.  The  story  of  financial 
embarrassment  had  lost  its  fine  edge  of  persuasion  by  over- 
telling.  She  had  almost  ceased  to  believe  in  it,  and  the 

9 


Where  Love  Is 

lingering  grain  of  credence  she  put  aside  with  the  cynical 
feeling  that  it  was  no  great  concern  of  hers,  so  long  as  her 
usual  round  of  life  went  on.  She  had  two  hundred  a  year 
of  her  own,  all  of  which  she  spent  in  dress,  so  that  in  that 
one  particular  at  least,  if  she  chose  to  be  economical,  she 
was  practically  independent.  Money  for  other  wants  was 
generally  procurable,  with  or  without  unpleasant  dunning 
of  her  parents  She  lived  very  little  in  their  home  in 
Wiltshire,  a  beautiful  and  stately  young  woman  of  fashion 
being  a  decorative  adjunct  to  smart  country-house  parties. 
In  London,  if  she  sighed  for  a  more  extensive  establish- 
ment and  a  more  luxurious  style  of  living,  it  was  what  she 
always  had  done.  She  had  hated  the  furnished  house  or 
flat  and  the  livery-stable  carriage  ever  since  her  first  season. 
In  the  same  way  she  had  always  considered  the  omission 
from  her  scheme  of  life  of  a  yacht  and  a  villa  at  Cannes 
and  diamonds  at  discretion  as  a  culpable  oversight  on  the 
part  of  the  Creator.  But  the  sordid  makeshift  of  exist- 
ence to  which  she  was  condemned  was  not  a  matter  of 
yesterday.  In  spite  of  the  financial  embarrassments  of  the 
maternal  fable  she  had  noticed  no  cutting  down  of  custom- 
ary expenditure.  Her  father  still  played  the  fool  on  the 
stock  exchange,  her  mother  still  attired  herself  elaborately 
and  disdained  to  eat  otherwise  than  a  la  carte  at  expensive 
restaurants,  and  she,  Norma,  went  whithersoever  the  smart 
set  drifted  her.  She  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  vulgarity 
of  financial  embarrassments. 

As  to  the  question  of  marriage  she  was  as  fully  deter- 
mined as  her  mother  that  she  should  make  a  brilliant 
match.  She  had  had  two  or  three  disappointments  —  the 
unwary  duke,  for  instance.  On  the  other  hand  she  had 
refused  eligibles  like  Lord  Wyniard  out  of  sheer  caprice. 

10 


The  First  Glimpse 

The  only  man  who  had  given  her  a  moment's  stir  of  the 
pulses,  a  moment's  thought  of  throwing  her  cap  over  the 
windmills,  was  a  young  soldier  in  the  Indian  Staff  Corps. 
But  he  belonged  to  her  second  season,  before  she  had 
really  seen  the  world  and  grasped  the  inner  meaning  of 
life.  Besides,  her  mother  had  almost  beaten  her;  and  in 
an  encounter  between  the  dragon  who  guarded  the  gold  of 
her  daughter's  affections  and  the  young  Siegfried,  it  was 
the  hero  that  barely  escaped  destruction ;  he  fled  to  India 
for  his  life.  Norma  lost  all  sight  and  count  of  him  for 
three  years.  Then  she  heard  that  he  had  married  a  school- 
fellow of  hers  and  was  a  month-old  father.  It  was  with 
feelings  of  peculiar  satisfaction  and  sense  of  deliverance 
that  she  sent  her  congratulations  to  him,  her  love  to  his 
wife,  and  a  set  of  baby  shoes  to  the  child.  She  had 
cultivated  by  this  time  a  helpful  sardonic  humour. 

There  was  now  Morland  King,  within  reasonable  dis- 
tance of  a  proposal.  Her  experience  detected  the  signs, 
although  little  of  sentimentality  had  passed  between  them. 
He  was  young,  as  marrying  men  go  —  a  year  or  two  under 
forty — of  good  family,  fairly  good-looking,  very  well  off, 
with  a  safe  seat  in  Parliament  being  kept  warm  for  him  by 
a  valetudinarian  ever  on  the  point  of  retirement.  Norma 
meant  to  accept  him.  She  contemplated  the  marriage  as 
coldly  and  unemotionally  as  King  contemplated  the  seat  in 
Parliament.  But  through  the  corrupted  tissue  of  her  being 
ran  one  pure  and  virginal  thread.  She  used  no  lures.  She 
remained  chastely  aloof,  the  arts  of  seduction  being  tem- 
peramentally repugnant  to  her.  Knowledge  she  had  of 
good  and  evil  (a  euphemism,  generally,  for  an  exclusive 
acquaintance  with  the  latter),  and  she  was  cynical  enough  in 
her  disregard  of  concealment  of  her  knowledge ;  but  she 

ii 


Where  Love  Is 

revolted  from  using  it  to  gain  any  advantage  over  a  man. 
At  this  period  of  her  life  she  set  great  store  by  herself, 
and  though  callously  determined  on  marriage  condescended 
with  much  disdain  to  be  wooed.  Her  mother,  bred  in  a 
hard  school,  was  not  subtle  enough  to  perceive  this  antith- 
esis. Hence  the  constant  scenes  of  which  Norma  bitterly 
resented  the  vulgarity.  "  We  pride  ourselves  on  being 
women  of  the  world,  mother,"  she  said,  "but  that  does  n't 
prevent  our  remembering  that  we  are  gentlefolk."  Whereat, 
on  one  occasion,  Mr.  Hardacre,  in  his  flustering,  feeble  way, 
had  told  Norma  not  to  be  rude  to  her  mother,  only  to  draw 
upon  himself  the  vials  of  his  wife's  anger. 

He  came  in  now,  during  the  silence  that  had  fallen  on 
the  two  women  —  a  short,  stout,  red-faced  man,  with  a  bald 
head,  and  a  weak  chin,  and  a  drooping  foxy  moustache 
turning  grey.  He  was  bursting  with  an  interminable  tale 
of  scandal  that  he  had  picked  up  at  his  club  —  a  respect- 
able institution  with  an  inner  coterie  of  vapid,  middle-aged 
dullards  whose  cackle  was  the  terror  of  half  London  so- 
ciety. It  is  a  superstition  among  good  women  that  man  is 
too  noble  a  creature  to  descend  to  gossip.  Ten  minutes 
in  the  members'  smoking-room  of  the  Burlington  Club 
would  paralyse  the  most  scandal-mongering  tabby  of  Bath, 
Cheltenham,  or  Tunbridge  Wells. 

"  We  were  sure  she  was  a  wrong  'un  from  the  first,"  he 
explained  in  a  thick,  jerky  voice  to  his  listless  auditors. 
"  And  now  it  turns  out  that  she  was  in  thick  with  poor 
Billy  Withers,  you  know,  and  when  Billy  broke  his  neck  — 
that  was  through  another  blessed  woman  —  I  '11  tell  you 
all  about  her  by'm  bye  —  when  Billy  broke  his  neck,  his 
confounded  valet  got  hold  of  Mrs.  Jack's  letters,  and  how 
she  paid  for  'em  's  the  cream  of  the  story — " 

12 


The  First  Glimpse 

"  We  need  not  have  that  now,  Benjamin,"  said  Mrs. 
'Hardacre,  with  a  warning  indication  that  reverence  was 
due  to  the  young. 

"  Well,  of  course  that 's  the  end  of  it,"  replied  Mr. 
Hardacre,  in  some  confusion. 

But  Norma  rose  with  a  laugh  of  hard  mockery. 

"The  valet  entered  the  service  of  Lord  Wyniard,  and 
now  there 's  a  pretty  little  divorce  case  in  the  air,  with 
Jack  Dugdale  as  petitioner  and  Lord  Wyniard  as  co- 
respondent. Are  n't  you  sorry,  mother,  I  did  n't  marry 
Wyniard  and  reform  him,  and  save  society  this  terrible 
scandal  ?  " 

Turning  from  her  disconcerted  parents,  Norma  pulled 
back  the  thick  curtains  from  the  French  window  and 
opened  one  of  the  doors. 

"  What  are  you  doing  that  for  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Hardacre 
irritably,  as  the  cold  air  of  a  wet  May  night  swept  through 
the  room. 

"  I  'm  going  to  try  to  ventilate  my  soul,"  said  Norma, 
stepping  on  to  the  balcony. 


Chapter  II 
THE   FOOL'S   WISDOM 

LK.E  the  inexplicable  run  on  a  particular  number 
at  the  roulette-table,  there  often  seems  to  be  a 
run  on  some  particular  phenomenon  thrown  up 
by  the  wheel  of  daily  life.-  Such  a  recurrent  incident 
was  the  meeting  of  Norma  and  Jimmie  Padgate  during 
the  next  few  weeks.  She  met  him  at  Mrs.  Deering's, 
she  ran  across  him  in  the  streets.  Going  to  spend  a  week- 
end out  of  town,  she  found  him  on  the  platform  of 
Paddington  Station.  The  series  of  sheer  coincidences 
established  between  them  a  certain  familiarity.  When  next 
they  met,  it  was  in  the  crush  of  an  emptying  theatre.  They 
found  themselves  blocked  side  by  side,  and  they  laughed  as 
their  eyes  met. 

"  This  seems  to  have  got  out  of  the  domain  of  vulgar 
chance  and  become  Destiny,"  she  said  lightly. 

"  I  am  indeed  favoured  by  the  gods,"  he  replied. 

"You  don't  deserve  their  good  will  because  you  have 
never  come  to  see  me." 

Jimmie  replied  that  he  was  an  old  bear  who  loved  to 
growl  selfishly  in  his  den.  Norma  retorted  with  a  refer- 
ence to  Constance  Deering.  In  her  house  he  could  growl 
altruistically. 

"She  pampers  me  with  honey,"  he  explained. 


The  Fool's  Wisdom 

"  I  am  afraid  you  '11  get  nothing  so  Arcadian  with  us," 
she  replied,  "  but  I  can  provide  you  with  some  excellent 
glucose." 

They  were  moved  a  few  feet  forward  by  the  crowd,  and 
then  came  to  a  halt  again. 

"  This  is  my  ward,  Miss  Aline  Marden,"  he  said,  pre- 
senting a  pretty  slip  of  a  girl  of  seventeen,  who  had  hung 
back  shyly  during  the  short  dialogue,  and  looked  with 
open-eyed  admiration  at  Jimmie's  new  friend.  "  That  is 
how  she  would  be  described  in  a  court  of  law,  but  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  that  really  she  is  my  nurse  and  foster- 
mother." 

The  girl  blushed  at  the  introduction,  and  gave  him  an 
imperceptible  twitch  of  the  arm.  Norma  smiled  at  her 
graciously  and  asked  her  how  she  had  liked  the  play. 

"  It  was  heavenly,"  she  said  with  a  little  sigh.  "  Did  n't 
you  think  so  ?  " 

Norma,  who  had  characterised  the  piece  as  the  most 
dismal  performance  outside  a  little  Bethel,  was  preparing  a 
mendacious  answer,  when  a  sudden  thinning  in  the  crush 
brought  to  her  side  Mrs.  Hardacre,  from  whom  she  had 
been  separated.  Mrs.  Hardacre  inquired  querulously  for 
Morland  King,  who  had  gone  in  search  of  the  carriage. 
Norma  reassured  her  as  to  his  ability  to  find  it,  and  in- 
troduced Jimmie  and  Aline.  Mr.  Padgate  was  Mr.  King's 
oldest  friend.  Mrs.  Hardacre  bowed  disapprovingly,  took 
in  with  a  hard  glance  the  details  of  Aline's  cheap,  home- 
made evening  frock,  and  the  ready-made  cape  over  her 
shoulders,  and  turned  her  head  away  with  a  sniff.  She  had 
been  put  out  of  temper  the  whole  evening  by  Norma's  glacial 
treatment  of  King,  and  was  not  disposed  to  smile  at  the 
nobodies  whom  it  happened  to  please  Norma  to  patronise. 

15 


Where  Love  Is 

At  last  King  beckoned  to  them  from  the  door,  and  they 
crushed  through  the  still  waiting  crowd  to  join  him.  By 
the  time  Jimmie  Padgate  and  his  ward  had  reached  the 
pavement  they  had  driven  off. 

"  I  wonder  if  we  can  get  a  cab,"  said  Jimmie. 

"  Cab ! "  cried  the  girl,  taking  his  arm  affectionately. 
"  One  would  think  you  were  a  millionaire.  You  can  go 
in  a  cab  if  you  like,  but  I  'm  going  home  in  a  'bus.  Come 
along.  We  '11  get  one  at  Piccadilly  Circus." 

She  hurried  him  on  girlishly,  talking  of  the  play  they 
had  just  seen.  It  was  heavenly,  she  repeated.  She  had 
never  been  in  the  stalls  before.  She  wished  kind-hearted 
managers  would  send  them'  seats  every  night.  Then 
suddenly  : 

"  Why  did  n't  you  tell  me  how  beautiful  she  was  ?  " 

"  Who,  dear  ?  " 

"Why,  Miss  Hardacre.  I  think  she  is  the  loveliest 
thing  I  have  ever  seen.  I  could  sit  and  look  at  her  all 
day  long.  Why  don't  you  paint  her  portrait  —  in  that 
wonderful  ivory-satin  dress  she  was  wearing  to-night  ? 
And  the  diamond  star  in  her  hair  that  made  her  look  like 
a  queen  —  did  you  notice  it  ?  Why,  Jimmie,  you  are  not 
paying  the  slightest  attention  !  " 

"  My  dear,  I  could  repeat  verbatim  every  word  you 
have  said,"  he  replied  soberly.  "  She  is  indeed  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  of  God's  creatures." 

"  Then  you  '11  paint  her  portrait  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,  dear."  said  Jimmie,  "  perhaps." 

Meanwhile  in  the  brougham  King  was  giving  Norma 
an  account  of  Jimmie's  guardianship.  She  had  asked  him 
partly  out  of  curiosity,  partly  to  provide  him  with  a  sub- 
ject of  conversation,  and  partly  to  annoy  her  mother, 

16 


The  Fool's  Wisdom 

whose  disapproving  sniff  she  had  noted  with  some  resent- 
ment.    And  this  in  brief  is  the  tale  that  King  told. 

Some  ten  years  ago,  John  Marden,  a  brother  artist  of 
Jimmie  Padgate's,  died  penniless,  leaving  his  little  girl  of 
seven  with  the  alternative  of  fighting  her  way  alone  through 
an  unsympathetic  world,  or  of  depending  on  the  charity  of 
his  only  sister,  a  drunken  shrew  of  a  woman,  the  wife  of  a 
small  apothecary,  and  the  casual  mother  of  a  vague  and 
unwashed  family.  Common  decency  made  the  first  alter- 
native impossible.  On  their  return  to  the  house  after  the 
funeral,  the  aunt  announced  her  intention  of  caring  for 
the  orphan  as  her  own  flesh  and  blood.  Jimmie,  who  had 
taken  upon  himself  the  functions  of  the  intestate's  tem- 
porary executor,  acquiesced  dubiously.  The  lady,  by  no 
means  sober,  shed  copious  tears  and  a  rich  perfume  of 
whisky.  She  called  Aline  to  her  motherly  bosom.  The 
child,  who  had  held  Jimmie's  hand  throughout  the  mourn- 
ful proceedings,  for  he  had  been  her  slave  and  play- 
fellow for  the  whole  of  her  little  life,  advanced  shyly.  Her 
aunt  took  her  in  her  arms.  But  the  child,  with  instinctive 
repugnance  to  the  smell  of  spirits,  shrank  from  her  kisses. 
The  shrew  arose  in  the  woman ;  she  shook  her  vindic- 
tively, and  gave  her  three  or  four  resounding  slaps  on 
face  and  shoulders.  Jimmie  leaped  from  his  chair,  tore 
the  scared  little  girl  from  the  vixen's  clutches,  and  tak- 
ing her  bodily  in  his  arms,  strode  with  her  out  of  the 
house,  leaving  the  apothecary  and  his  wife  to  settle  matters 
between  them.  It  was  only  when  he  had  walked  down 
the  street  and  hailed  a  cab  that  he  began  to  consider  the 
situation. 

"  What  on  earth  am    I  to    do    with    you  ? "  he  asked 
whimsically. 


Where  Love  Is 

The  small  arms  tightened  round  his  neck.  "  Take  me 
to  live  with  you,"  sobbed  the  child. 

"  Out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  we  learn 
wisdom.  So  be  it,"  said  Jimmic,  and  he  drove  home  with 
his  charge. 

As  neither  aunt  nor  uncle  nor  any  human  being  in  the 
wide  world  claimed  the  child,  she  became  mistress  of 
Jimmie's  home  from  that  hour.  Her  father's  pictures  and 
household  effects  were  sold  off  to  pay  his  creditors,  and  a 
little  bundle  of  torn  frocks  and  linen  was  Aline's  sole  legacy. 

"  I  happened  to  look  in  upon  him  the  evening  of  her 
arrival,"  said  King,  by  way  of  conclusion  to  his  story.  u  In 
those  days  he  managed  with  a  charwoman  who  came  only 
in  the  mornings,  so  he  was  quite  alone  in  the  place  with  the 
kid.  What  do  you  think  I  found  him  doing  ?  Sitting 
cross-legged  on  the  model-platform  with  a  great  pair  of 
scissors  and  needles  and  thread,  cutting  down  one  of  his 
own  night  garments  so  as  to  fit  her,  while  the  kid  in  a 
surprising  state  of  deshabille  was  seated  on  a  table,  kicking 
her  bare  legs  and  giving  him  directions.  His  explanation 
was  that  Miss  Marden's  luggage  had  not  yet  arrived  and 
she  must  be  made  comfortable  for  the  night !  But  you 
never  saw  anything  so  comic  in  your  life." 

He  leaned  back  and  laughed  at  the  reminiscence,  not 
unkindly.  Mrs.  Hardacre,  bored  by  the  unprofitable  tale, 
stared  at  the  dim  streets  out  of  the  brougham  window. 
Norma,  on  friendlier  terms  with  King,  the  little  human 
story  having  perhaps  drawn  them  together,  joined  in  the 
laugh. 

"  And  now,  I  suppose,  when  she  grows  a  bit  older,  Mr. 
Padgate  will  marry  her  and  she  will  be  a  dutiful  little  wife 
and  they  will  live  happy  and  humdrum  ever  after." 

18 


The  Fool's  Wisdom 

"  I  hope  he  will  provide  her  with  some  decent  rags  to 
put  on,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre.  "  Those  the  child  was  wear- 
ing to-night  were  fit  for  a  servant  maid." 

"  Jimmie  would  give  her  his  skin  if  she  could  wear  it," 
said  Morland,  somewhat  tartly. 

This  expression  of  feeling  gave  him,  for  the  first  time, 
a  special  place  in  Norma's  esteem.  After  all,  a  woman 
desires  to  like  the  man  who  in  a  few  months'  time  may 
be  her  husband,  and  hitherto  Morland  had  presented  a 
negativity  of  character  which  had  baffled  and  irritated  her. 
The  positive  trait  of  loyalty  to  a  friend  she  welcomed  in- 
stinctively, although  if  charged  with  the  emotion  she 
would  have  repudiated  the  accusation.  When  the  carriage 
stopped  at  the  awning  and  red  strip  of  carpet  before  the 
house  in  Eaton  Square  where  a  dance  awaited  her,  and  she 
took  leave  of  him,  she  returned  his  handshake  with  almost 
a  warm  pressure  and  sent  him  away,  a  sanguine  lover,  to 
his  club. 

The  next  morning  Constance  Deering,  taking  her  on 
a  round  of  shopping,  enquired  how  the  romance  was 
proceeding. 

u  He  has  had  me  on  probation,"  replied  Norma,  "  and 
has  been  examining  all  my  points.  I  rather  think  he  finds 
me  satisfactory,  and  is  about  to  make  an  offer." 

"  What  an    idyllic  pair  you  are  !  "    laughed   her   friend. 

Norma  took  the  matter  seriously. 

"  The  man  is  perfectly  right.  He  is  on  the  lookout 
for  a  woman  who  can  keep  up  or  perhaps  add  to  his  social 
prestige,  who  can  conduct  the  affairs  of  a  large  establish- 
ment when  he  enters  political  life,  who  can  possibly  give 
him  a  son  to  inherit  his  estate,  and  who  can  wear  his 
family  diamonds  with  distinction  —  and  it  does  require  a 

19 


Where  Love  Is 

woman  of  presence  to  do  justice  to  family  diamonds,  you 
know.  He  looks  round  society  and  sees  a  girl  that  may  suit 
him.  Naturally  he  takes  his  time  and  sizes  her  up.  I  have 
learned  patience  and  so  I  let  him  size  to  his  heart's  content. 
On  the  other  hand,  what  he  can  give  me  falls  above  the 
lower  limit  of  my  requirements,  and  personally  I  don't 
dislike  him." 

"  Mercy  on  us  !  "  cried  Constance  Deering,  "  the  man 
is  head  over  ears  in  love  with  you  !  " 

"  Then  I  like  him  all  the  better  for  dissembling  it  so 
effectually,"  said  Norma,  "  and  I  hope  he  '11  go  on  dis- 
sembling to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  I  hate  sentiment." 

They  were  walking  slowly  down  Bond  Street,  and  hap- 
pened to  pause  before  a  picture-dealer's  window,  where  a 
print  of  a  couple  of  lovers  bidding  farewell  caught  Mrs. 
Deering's  attention. 

"  I  call  that  pretty,"  she  said.     "  Do  you  hate  love  too  ? " 

Norma  twirled  her  parasol  and  moved  away,  waiting  for 
the  other. 

"Love,  my  dear  Connie,  is  an  appetite  of  the  lower 
middle  classes." 

"  My  dear  Norma !  "  the  other  exclaimed,  "  I  do  wish 
Jimmie  Padgate  could  hear  you  !  " 

Norma  started  at  the  name.  "  What  has  he  got  to  do 
with  the  matter  ?  " 

"  That 's  one  of  his  pictures." 

"Oh,  is  it?"  said  Norma,  indifferently.  But  feminine 
curiosity  compelled  a  swift  parting  glance  at  the  print. 

"  I  imagine  our  guileless  friend  has  a  lot  to  learn,"  she 
added.  "  A  few  truths  about  the  ways  of  this  wicked 
world  would  do  him  good." 

"  I  promised  to  go  and  look  round  his  studio  to-morrow 

20 


The  Fool's  Wisdom 

morning;  will  you  come  and  give  him  his  first  lesson?", 
asked  Mrs.  Deering,  mischievously. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Norma. 

But  the  destiny  she  had  previously  remarked  upon  seemed 
to  be  fulfilling  itself.  A  day  or  two  afterwards  his  familiar 
figure  burst  upon  her  at  a  Private  View  in  a  small  picture- 
gallery.  His  eyes  brightened  as  she  withdrew  from  her 
mother,  who  was  accompanying  her,  and  extended  her 
hand. 

"  Dear  me,  who  would  have  thought  of  seeing  you  here  ? 
Do  you  care  for  pictures  ?  Why  have  n't  you  told  me  ? 
I  am  so  glad." 

"  Love  of  Art  did  n't  bring  me  here,  I  assure  you,"  re- 
plied Norma.  « 

«  Then  what  did  ?  " 

Jimmie  in  his  guilelessness  had  an  uncomfortable  way 
of  posing  fundamental  questions.  In  that  respect  he  was 
like  a  child.  Norma  smiled  in  silent  contemplation  of  the 
real  object  of  their  visit.  At  first  her  mother  had  tossed 
the  cards  of  invitation  into  the  waste-paper  basket.  It  was 
advertising  impudence  on  the  part  of  the  painter  man, 
whom  she  had  met  but  once,  to  take  her  name  in  vain 
on  the  back  of  an  envelope.  Then  hearing  accidentally 
that  the  painter  man  had  painted  the  portraits  of  many 
high-born  ladies,  including  that  of  the  Duchess  of  Wilt- 
shire, and  that  the  Duchess  of  Wiltshire  herself — their 
own  duchess,  who  gave  Mrs.  Hardacre  the  tip  of  her 
finger  to  shake  and  sometimes  the  tip  of  a  rasping  tongue 
to  meditate  upon,  whom  Mrs.  Hardacre  had  tried  any  time 
these  ten  years  to  net  for  Heddon  Court,  their  place  in 
the  country  —  had  graciously  promised  to  attend  the  Pri- 
vate View,  in  her  character  of  Lady  Patroness-in-Chicf  of 

21 


Where  Love  Is 

the  painter  man,  Mrs.  Hardacre  had  hurried  home  and  had 
set  the  servants'  hall  agog  in  search  of  the  cards.  Eventu- 
ally they  had  been  discovered  in  the  dust-bin,  and  she  had 
spent  half  an  hour  in  cleansing  them  with  bread-crumbs, 
much  to  Norma's  sardonic  amusement.  The  duchess  not 
having  yet  arrived,  Mrs.  Hardacre  had  fallen  back  upon 
the  deaf  Dowager  Countess  of  Solway,  who  was  discours- 
ing to  her  in  a  loud  voice  on  her  late  husband's  method 
of  breeding  prize  pigs.  Norma  had  broken  away  from  this 
exhilarating  lecture  to  greet  Jimmie. 

He  kept  his  eager  eyes  upon  her,  still  waiting  for  an 
answer  to  his  question  : 

"  What  did  ?  " 

Norma,  fairly  quick-witted,  indicated  the  walls  with  a 
little  comprehensive  gesture. 

"  Do  you  call  this  simpering,  uninspired  stuff  Art  ?  "  she 
said,  begging  the  question. 

41  Oh,  it 's  not  that,"  cried  Jimmie,  falling  into  the  trap. 
"  It 's  really  very  good  of  its  kind.  Amazingly  clever. 
Of  course  it 's  not  highly  finished.  It 's  impressionistic. 
Look  at  that  sweeping  line  from  the  throat  all  the  way 
down  to  the  hem  of  the  skirt,"  indicating  the  picture  in 
front  of  them  and  following  the  curve,  painter  fashion,  with 
bent-back  thumb;  "how  many  of  your  fellows  in  the  Acad- 
emy could  get  that  so  clean  and  true  ? " 

"  I  have  just  met  Mr.  Porteous,  who  said  he  could  n't 
stay  any  longer  because  such  quackery  made  him  sick," 
said  Norma. 

Jimmie  glanced  round  the  walls.  Porteous,  the  Royal 
Academician,  was  right.  The  colour  was  thin,  the  model- 
ling flat,  the  drawing  tricky,  the  invention  poor.  A  dull 
soullessness  ran  through  the  range  of  full-length  por- 

22 


The  Fool's  Wisdom 

traits  of  women.  He  realised,  with  some  distress,  the 
clever  insincerity  of  the  painting ;  but  he  had  known  Fol- 
jambe,  the  author  of  these  coloured  crimes,  as  a  fellow- 
student  at  the  Beaux-Arts  in  Paris,  and  having  come  to  see 
his  work  for  the  first  time,  could  not  bear  to  judge  harshly. 
It  was  characteristic  of  him  to  expatiate  on  the  only  merit 
the  work  possessed. 

"Mr.  Porteous  even  said,"  continued  Norma,  "that  it 
was  scandalous  such  a  man  should  be  making  thousands 
when  men  of  genius  were  making  hundreds.  It  was  tak- 
ing the  bread  out  of  their  mouths." 

"  I  am  sorry  he  said  that,"  said  Jimmie.  "  I  think  we 
ought  rather  to  be  glad  that  a  man  of  poor  talent  has  been 
so  successful.  So  many  of  them  go  to  the  wall." 

"  Do  you  always  find  the  success  of  your  inferior  rivals 
so  comforting  ?  "  asked  Norma.  "  I  don't."  She  thought 
of  the  depredatory  American. 

Jimmie  pushed  his  hat  to  the  back  of  his  head  —  a  dis- 
coloured Homburg  hat  that  had  seen  much  wear  —  and 
rammed  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  It 's  horrible  to  regard  oneself  and  one's  fellow-crea- 
tures as  so  many  ghastly  fishes  tearing  one  another  to  pieces 
so  as  to  get  at  the  same  piece  of  offal.  That's  what  it  all 
comes  to,  does  n't  it  ?  " 

The  picture  of  the  rapt  duke  as  garbage  floating  on  the 
tide  of  London  Society  brought  with  it  a  certain  humourous 
consolation.  That  of  her  own  part  in  the  metaphor  did 
not  appear  so  soothing.  Jimmie's  proposition  being,  how- 
ever, incontrovertible,  she  changed  the  subject  and  enquired 
after  Aline.  Why  had  n't  he  brought  her  ? 

" 1  am  afraid  we  should  have  argued  about  Foljambe's 
painting,"  said  Jimmie,  with  innocent  malice. 

23 


Where  Love  Is 

"  And  we  should  have  agreed  about  it,"  replied  Nortna. 
She  talked  about  Aline.  Morland  King  had  been  tale- 
bearing. It  was  refreshing,  she  confessed,  once  in  a  way 
to  hear  good  of  one's  fellow-creatures  :  like  getting  up 
at  six  in  the  morning  in  the  country  and  drinking  milk 
fresh  from  the  cow.  It  conferred  a  sense  of  unaccustomed 
virtue.  The  mention  of  milk  reminded  her  that  she  was 
dying  for  tea.  Was  it  procurable  ? 

"  There  's  a  roomful  of  it.  Can  I  take  you  ?  "  asked 
Jimmie,  eagerly. 

She  assented.  Jimmie  piloted  her  through  the  chatter- 
ing crowd.  On  the  way  they  passed  by  Mrs.  Hardacre, 
still  devoting  the  pearls  of  her  attention  to  the  pigs.  She 
acknowledged  his  bow  distantly  and  summoned  her  daugh- 
ter to  her  side. 

u  What  are  you  affiche-\ng  yourself  with  that  nondescript 
man  for  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  cross  whisper. 

Norma  moved  away  with  a  shrug,  and  went  with  Jimmie 
into  the  crowded  tea-room.  There,  while  he  was  fighting 
for  tea  at  the  buffet,  she  fell  into  a  nest  of  acquaintances. 
Presently  he  emerged  from  the  crush  victorious,  and,  as  he 
poured  out  the  cream  for  her,  became  the  unconscious  tar- 
get of  sharp  feminine  glances. 

"  Who  is  your  friend  ? "  asked  one  lady,  as  Jimmie 
retired  with  the  cream-jug. 

"  I  will  introduce  him  if  you  like,"  she  replied.  He 
reappeared  and  was  introduced  vaguely.  Then  he  stood 
silent,  listening  to  a  jargon  he  was  at  a  loss  to  comprehend. 
The  women  spoke  in  high,  hard  voices,  with  impure  vowel 
sounds  and  a  clipping  of  final  consonants.  The  conversa- 
tion gave  him  a  confused  impression  of  Ascot,  a  horse,  a 
foreign  prince,  and  a  lady  of  fashion  who  was  characterised  as 

24 


The  Fool's  Wisdom 

a  "rotter."  Allusion  was  also  made  to  a  princely  restaurant, 
which  Jimmie,  taken  thither  one  evening  by  King,  regarded 
as  a  fairy-land  of  rare  and  exquisite  flavours,  and  the 
opinion  was  roundly  expressed  that  you  could  not  get  any- 
thing fit  to  eat  in  the  place  and  that  the  wines  were  poison. 

Jimmie  listened  wonderingly.  No  one  seemed  disposed 
to  controvert  the  statement,  which  was  made  by  quite  a 
young  girl.  Indeed  one  of  her  friends  murmured  that  she 
had  had  awful  filth  there  a  few  nights  before.  A  smartly 
dressed  woman  of  forty  who  had  drawn  away  from  the 
general  conversation  asked  Jimmie  if  he  had  been  to 
Cynthia  yet.  He  replied  that  he  very  seldom  went  to 
theatres.  The  lady  burst  out  laughing,  and  then  seeing 
the  genuine  enquiry  on  his  face,  checked  herself. 

"  I  thought  you  were  trying  to  pull  my  leg,"  she  ex- 
plained. "  I  mean  Cynthia,  the  psychic,  the  crystal  gazer. 
Why,  every  one  is  going  crazy  over  her.  Do  you  mean  to 
say  you  have  n't  been  ?  " 

"  Heaven  forbid  !  "  said  Jimmie. 

"  You  may  scoff,  but  she  's  wonderful.  Do  you  know 
she  actually  gave  me  the  straight  tip  for  the  Derby  ?  She 
did  n't  mean  to,  for  she  does  n't  lay  herself  out  for  that  sort 
of  thing  —  but  she  said,  after  telling  me  a  lot  of  things  about 
myself — things  that  had  really  happened  — she  was  getting 
tired,  I  must  tell  you  — c  I  see  something  in  your  near 
future  —  it  is  a  horse  with  a  white  star  on  its  forehead  — 
it  has  gone  —  I  don't  know  what  it  means.'  I  went  to  the 
Derby.  I  had  n't  put  a  cent  on,  as  I  had  been  cleaned 
out  at  Cairo  during  the  winter  and  had  to  retrench.  The 
first  horse  that  was  led  out  had  a  white  star  on  his  forehead. 
None  of  the  others  had.  It  was  St.  Damien  —  a  thirty  to 
one  chance.  I  backed  him  outright  for  ^300.  And  now 

25 


Where  Love  Is 

I  have  ^"9000  to  play  with.     Don't  tell  me  there 's  noth- 
ing in  Cynthia  after  that." 

The  knot  of  ladies  dissolved.  Jimmie  put  Norma's  tea- 
cup down  and  went  slowly  back  with  her  to  the  main  room. 
He  was  feeling  depressed,  having  lost  his  bearings  in  this 
unfamiliar  world.  Suddenly  he  halted. 

"  I  wish  you  could  pinch  me,"  he  said. 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  To  test  whether  I  am  awake.  Have  I  really  heard  a 
sane  and  educated  lady  expressing  her  belief  in  the  visions 
of  a  crystal-gazing  adventuress  ?  " 

"You  have.  She  believes  firmly.  So  do  heaps  of 
women." 

"  I  hope  to  heaven  you  don't !  "  he  cried  with  a  sudden 
intensity. 

"  What  concern  can  my  faith  be  to  you  ? "  she  asked. 

" 1  beg  your  pardon.  No  concern  at  all,"  he  said  apolo- 
getically. "  But  I  generally  blurt  out  what  is  in  my  mind." 

"  And  what  is  in  your  mind  ?  I  am  a  person  you  can 
be  quite  frank  with." 

"  I  could  n't  bear  the  poem  of  your  life  to  be  sullied  by 
all  these  vulgarities,"  said  Jimmie. 

41  As  I  remarked  to  you  the  first  evening  I  met  you,  Mr. 
Padgate,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand  by  way  of  dis- 
missal, "  you  are  an  astonishing  person  !  " 

The  poem  of  her  life !  The  phrase  worried  her  before 
she  slept  that  night.  She  shook  the  buzzing  thing  away 
from  her  impatiently.  The  poem  of  her  life  !  The  man 
was  a  fool. 


26 


Chapter  III 
A  MODERN   BETROTHAL 

A  YOUNG  woman  bred  to  a  material  view  of  the 
cosmos  and  self-trained  to  cynical  expression  of 
her  opinions  may  thoroughly  persuade  herself  that 
marriage  is  a  social  bargain  in  which  it  would  be  absurd  for 
sentiment  to  have  a  place,  and  yet  when  the  hour  comes 
for  deciding  on  so  trivial  an  engagement,  may  find  herself 
in  an  irritatingly  unequable  frame  of  mind.  For  Norma 
the  hour  had  all  but  arrived.  Morland  King  had  asked  to 
see  her  alone  in  view  of  an  important  conversation.  She 
had  made  an  appointment  for  ten  o'clock,  throwing  over  her 
evening's  engagements.  Her  parents  were  entertaining  a 
couple  of  friends  in  somebody  else's  box  at  the  opera,  and 
would  return  in  time  to  save  the  important  conversation 
from  over-tediousness.  She  intended  to  amuse  herself 
placidly  with  a  novel  until  King's  arrival. 

This  was  a  week  or  two  after  her  encounter  with  Jimmie 
at  the  picture-gallery,  since  which  occasion  she  had  neither 
seen  nor  heard  of  him.  He  had  faded  from  the  surface  of 
a  consciousness  kept  on  continued  strain  by  the  thousand 
incidents  and  faces  of  a  London  season.  To  Jimmie  the 
series  of  meetings  had  been  a  phenomenon  of  infinite  im- 
port. She  had  come  like  a  queen  of  romance  into  his 
homely  garden,  and  her  radiance  lingered,  making  the 
roses  redder  and  the  grass  more  green.  But  the  queenly 

27 


Where  Love  Is 

apparition  herself  had  other  things  to  think  about,  and 
when  she  had  grown  angry  and  called  him  a  fool,  had 
dismissed  him  definitely  from  her  mind.  It  was  annoying 
therefore  that  on  this  particular  evening  the  fool  phrase 
should  buzz  again  in  her  ears. 

She  threw  down  her  book  and  went  on  to  the  balcony, 
where,  on  this  close  summer  night,  she  could  breathe  a 
little  cool  air.  A  clock  somewhere  in  the  house  chimed 
the  half-hour.  Morland  was  to  come  at  ten.  She  longed 
for,  yet  dreaded,  his  coming ;  regretted  that  she  had  stayed 
away  from  the  opera,  where,  after  all,  she  could  have  ob- 
served the  everlasting  human  comedy.  She  had  dined 
early ;  the  evening  had  been  interminable ;  she  felt  nervous, 
and  raged  at  her  weakness.  She  was  tired,  out  of  harmony 
with  herself,  fretfully  conscious  too  of  the  jarring  notes  in 
a  room  furnished  by  uneducated  people  of  sudden  wealth. 
The  Wolff-Salamons,  out  of  the  kindness  of  their  shrewd 
hearts,  had  offered  the  house  for  the  season  to  the  Hard- 
acres,  who  had  accepted  the  free  quarters  with  profuse 
expressions  of  gratitude  ;  which,  however,  did  not  prevent 
Mr.  Hardacre  from  railing  at  the  distance  of  the  house 
(which  was  in  Holland  Park)  from  his  club,  or  his  wife 
from  deprecating  to  her  friends  her  temporary  residence  in 
what  she  was  pleased  to  term  the  Ghetto.  Nor  did  the 
Wolff-Salamons'  generosity  mitigate  the  effect  of  their 
furniture  on  Norma's  nerves.  When  Jimmie's  phrase 
came  into  her  head  with  the  suddenness  of  a  mosquito, 
she  could  bear  the  room  no  longer. 

She  sat  on  the  balcony  and  waited  for  Morland.  There 
at  least  she  was  free  from  the  flaring  gold  and  blue,  and  the 
full-length  portrait  of  the  lady  of  the  house,  on  which  with 
delicate  savagery  the  eminent  painter  had  catalogued  all 


A  Modern  Betrothal 

the  shades  of  her  ancestral  vulgarity.  Perhaps  it  was  this 
portrait  that  had  brought  back  the  irony  of  Jimmie's  tribute. 
The  poem  of  her  life  !  She  sat  with  her  chin  on  her  palm, 
thinking  bitterly  of  circumstance.  She  had  never  been 
happy,  had  grown  to  disbelieve  in  so  absurd  and  animal  a 
state.  It  had  always  been  the  same,  as  far  back  as  she 
could  remember.  Her  childhood  :  nurses  and  governesses 
—  a  swift  succession  of  the  latter  till  she  began  to  regard 
them  as  remote  from  her  inner  life  as  the  shop  girl  or  rail- 
way guard  with  whom  she  came  into  casual  contact.  The 
life  broken  by  visits  abroad  to  fashionable  watering  or 
gambling  places  where  she  wandered  lonely  and  proud, 
neglected  by  her  parents,  watching  with  keen  eyes  and 
imperturbable  face  the  frivolities,  the  vices,  the  sordid- 
nesses,  taking  them  all  in,  speculating  upon  them,  resolving 
some  problems  unaided  and  storing  up  others  for  future 
elucidation.  Her  year  at  the  expensive  finishing  school 
in  Paris  where  the  smartest  daughters  of  America  babbled 
and  chattered  of  money,  money,  till  the  air  seemed  unfit 
for  woman  to  breathe  unless  it  were  saturated  with  gold 
dust.  As  hers  was  not,  came  discontent  and  overweening 
ambitions.  Yet  the  purity  was  not  all  killed.  She  remem- 
bered her  first  large  dinner-party.  The  same  Lord  Wyniard 
of  the  unclean  scandal  had  taken  her  down.  He  was  thirty 
years  older  than  she,  and  an  unsavoury  reputation  had 
reached  even  her  young  ears.  The  man  regarded  her  with 
the  leer  of  a  satyr.  She  realised  with  a  shudder  for  the 
first  time  the  meaning  of  a  phrase  she  had  constantly  met 
with  in  French  novels  — "/'/  la  devetit  de  ses  yeux."  His 
manner  was  courtly,  his  air  of  breeding  perfect;  yet  he 
managed  to  touch  her  fingers  twice,  and  he  sought  to  lead 
her  on  to  dubious  topics  of  conversation.  She  was  frightened.. 

29 


Where  Love  Is 

In  the  drawing-room,  seeing  him  approach,  she  lost  her 
head,  took  shelter  with  her  mother,  and  trembling  whispered 
to  her,  "  Don't  let  that  man  come  and  talk  to  me  again, 
mother,  he 's  a  beast."  She  was  bidden  not  to  be  a  fool. 
The  man  had  a  title  and  twenty  thousand  a  year,  and  she 
had  evidently  made  an  impression.  A  week  afterwards 
her  mother  invited  a  bishop  and  his  wife  and  Lord  Wyniard 
to  dinner,  and  Lord  Wyniard  took  Norma  down  again. 
And  that  was  her  start  in  the  world.  She  had  followed 
the  preordained  course  till  now,  with  many  adventures 
indeed  by  the  way,  but  none  that  could  justify  the  haunting 
phrase  —  the  poem  of  her  life  ! 

Was  the  man  such  a  fool,  after  all  ?  Was  it  even  igno- 
rance on  his  part  ?  Was  it  not,  rather,  wisdom  on  a  lofty 
plane  immeasurably  above  the  commonplaces  of  ignorance 
and  knowledge  ?  The  questions  presented  themselves  to 
her  vaguely.  She  was  filled  with  a  strange  unrest,  a  crav- 
ing for  she  knew  not  what.  Yet  she  would  shortly  have 
in  her  grasp  all  —  or  nearly  all  —  that  she  had  aimed  at  in 
life.  She  counted  the  tale  of  her  future  possessions  — 
houses,  horses,  diamonds,  and  the  like.  She  seemed  to 
have  owned  them  a  thousand  years. 

The  clock  in  the  house  chimed  ten  in  a  pretentious 
musical  way,  which  irritated  her  nerves.  The  silence  after 
the  last  of  the  ten  inexorable  tinkles  fell  gratefully.  Then 
she  realised  that  in  a  minute  or  two  Morland  would  arrive. 
Her  heart  began  to  beat,  and  she  clasped  her  hands  together 
in  a  nervous  suspense  of  which  she  had  not  dreamed  herself 
capable.  A  cab  turned  the  corner  of  the  street,  approached 
with  crescendo  rattle,  and  stopped  at  the  house.  She  saw 
Morland  alight  and  reach  up  to  pay  the  cabman.  For  a 
silly  moment  she  had  a  wild  impulse  to  cry  to  him  over 

3° 


A  Modern  Betrothal 

the  balcony  to  go  away  and  leave  her  in  peace.  She  waited 
until  she  heard  the  footman  open  the  front  door  and  admit 
him,  then  bracing  herself,  she  entered  the  drawing-room, 
looked  instinctively  in  a  mirror,  and  sat  down. 

She  met  him  cordially  enough,  returned  his  glance  some- 
what defiantly.  The  sight  of  him,  florid,  sleek,  faultlessly 
attired,  brought  her  back  within  the  every-day  sphere  of 
dulled  sensation.  He  held  her  hand  long  enough  for  him 
to  say,  after  the  first  greeting : 

"You  can  guess  what  I  've  come  for,  can't  you  ?  " 

"I  suppose  I  do,"  she  admitted  in  an  off-hand  way. 
"  You  will  find  frankness  one  of  my  vices.  Won't  you  sit 
down  ?  " 

She  motioned  him  to  a  chair,  and  seating  herself  on  a  sofa, 
prepared  to  listen. 

"  I  've  come  to  ask  you  to  marry  me,"  said  King. 

"Well  ? "  she  asked,  looking  at  him  steadily. 

"  I  want  to  know  how  it  strikes  you,"  he  continued  after 
a  brief  pause.  "  I  think  you  know  practically  all  that  I 
can  tell  you  about  myself.  I  can  give  you  what  you  want 
up  to  about  fifteen  thousand  a  year  —  it  will  be  more  when 
my  mother  dies.  We  're  decent  folk  —  old  county  family 
—  I  can  offer  you  whatever  society  you  like.  You  and  I 
have  tastes  in  common,  care  for  the  same  things,  same  sort 
of  people.  I  'm  sound  in  wind  and  limb  —  never  had  a 
day's  illness  in  my  life,  so  you  would  n't  have  to  look  after 
a  cripple.  And  I  'd  give  the  eyes  out  of  my  head  to  have 
you ;  you  know  that.  How  does  it  strike  you  ?  " 

Norma  had  averted  her  glance  from  him  towards  the  end 
of  his  speech,  and  leaning  back  was  looking  intently  at 
her  hands  in  her  lap.  For  the  moment  she  felt  it  im- 
possible to  reply.  The  words  that  had  formulated  them- 


Where  Love  Is 

selves  in  her  mind,  "  I  think,  Mr.  King,  the  arrangement 
will  be  eminently  advantageous  to  both  parties,"  were  too 
ludicrous  in  their  adequacy  to  the  situation.  So  she 
merely  sat  silent  and  motionless,  regarding  her  manicured 
finger-nails,  and  awaiting  another  opening.  King  changed 
his  seat  to  the  sofa,  by  her  side,  and  leaned  forward. 

"  If  you  had  been  a  simpler,  more  unsophisticated  girl, 
Norma,  I  should  have  begun  differently.  I  thought  it 
would  please  you  if  I  put  sentiment  aside." 

Her  head  motioned  acquiescence. 

"  But  I  'm  not  going  to  put  it  aside,"  he  went  on.  "  It 
has  got  its  place  in  the  world,  even  when  a  man  makes  a 
proposal  of  marriage.  And  when  I  say  I  'm  in  love  with 
you,  that  I  have  been  in  love  with  you  since  the  first  time 
I  saw  you,  it 's  honest  truth." 

"  Say  you  have  a  regard,  a  high  regard,  even,"  said 
Norma,  still  not  looking  at  him,  "  and  I  '11  believe  you." 

"  I  'm  hanged  if  I  will,"  said  Morland.  "  I  say  I  'm  in 
love  with  you." 

Norma  suddenly  softened.  The  phrase  tickled  her  ears 
again — this  time  pleasantly.  The  previous  half-hour's 
groping  in  the  dark  of  herself  seemed  to  have  resulted  in 
discovery.  She  gave  him  a  fleeting  smile  of  mockery. 

"Listen,"  she  said.  "If  you  will  be  contented  with 
regard,  a  high  regard,  on  my  side,  I  will  marry  you.  I 
really  like  you  very  much.  Will  that  do  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  I  ask  now.     The  rest  will  come  by  and  by." 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure.  We  had  better  be  perfectly  frank 
with  each  other  from  the  start,  for  we  shall  respect  each 
other  far  more.  Anyhow,  if  you  treat  me  decently,  as  I  am 
sure  you  will,  you  may  be  satisfied  that  I  shall  carry  out  my 
part  of  the  bargain.  My  bosom  friends  tell  one  another 

32 


A  Modern  Betrothal 

that  I  am  worldly  and  heartless  and  all  that  —  but  I  've 
never  lied  seriously  or  broken  a  promise  in  my  life." 

"  Very  well.  Let  us  leave  it  at  that,"  said  Morland, 
"  I  suppose  your  people  will  have  no  objection  ?  " 

"  None  whatever,"  replied  Norma,  drily. 

"  When  can  I  announce  our  engagement  ?  " 

"  Whenever  you  like." 

He  took  two  or  three  reflective  steps  about  the  room 
and  reseated  himself  on  the  sofa. 

"  Norma,"  he  said  softly,  bending  towards  her,  "  I 
believe  on  such  occasions  there  is  a  sort  of  privilege 
accorded  to  a  fellow  —  may  I  ?  " 

She  glanced  at  him,  hesitated,  then  proffered  her  cheek. 
He  touched  it  with  his  lips. 

The  ceremony  over,  there  ensued  a  few  minutes  of 
anticlimax.  Norma  breathed  more  freely.  There  had 
been  no  difficulties,  no  hypocrisies.  The  mild  approach 
to  rapture  on  Morland's  part  was  perhaps,  after  all,  only 
a  matter  of  common  decency,  to  be  accepted  by  her  as  a 
convention  of  the  scene  a  falre.  So  was  the  kiss.  She 
broke  the  spell  of  awkwardness  by  rising,  crossing  the 
room,  and  turning  off  an  electric  pendant  that  illuminated 
the  full-length  portrait  on  the  wall. 

"  We  can't  stand  Mrs.  Wolff-Salamon's  congratulations 
so  soon,"  she  said  with  a  laugh. 

Conversation  again  became  possible.  They  discussed 
arrangements.  King  suggested  a  marriage  in  the  autumn. 
Norma,  with  a  view  to  the  prolongation  of  what  appealed 
to  her  as  a  novel  and  desirable  phase  of  existence  —  maiden- 
hood relieved  of  the  hateful  duty  of  husband-hunting  and 
unclouded  by  parental  disapprobation  —  pleaded  for  delay 
till  Christmas.  She  argued  that  in  all  human  probability 
3  33 


Where  Love  Is 

the  Parliamentary  vacancy  at  Cosford,  the  safe  seat  on 
which  Morland  reckoned,  would  occur  in  the  autumn,  and 
he  could  not  fix  the  date  of  an  election  at  his  own  good 
pleasure.  He  must,  besides,  devote  his  entire  energy  to 
the  business ;  time  enough  when  it  was  over  to  think  of 
such  secondary  matters  as  weddings,  bridal  tours,  and  the 
setting  up  of  establishments. 

"  But  you  have  to  be  considered,  Norma,"  he  said,  half 
convinced. 

u  My  dear  Morland,"  she  replied  with  a  derisive  lip,  "  I 
should  never  dream  of  coming  between  you  and  your 
public  career." 

He  reflected  a  moment/  "Why  should  we  not  get 
married  at  once  ?  " 

Norma  laughed.  "  You  are  positively  pastoral !  No, 
my  dear  Morland,  that 's  what  the  passionate  young  lover 
always  says  to  the  coy  maiden  in  the  play,  but  if  you  will 
remember,  it  does  n't  seem  to  work  even  there.  Besides, 
you  must  let  me  gratify  my  ambitions.  When  I  was  very 
young,  I  vowed  I  would  marry  an  emperor.  Then  I  toned 
him  down  into  a  prince.  Later,  becoming  more  practical, 
I  dreamed  of  a  peer.  Finally  I  descended  to  a  Member 
of  Parliament.  I  can't  marry  you  !>efore  you  are  a 
Member." 

"  You  could  have  had  dozens  of  'em  for  the  asking, 
I  'm  sure,"  returned  the  prospective  legislator  with  a  grin. 
"  Take  them  all  round,  they  're  a  shoddy  lot." 

He  yielded  eventually  to  Norma's  proposal,  alluding, 
however,  with  an  air  of  ruefulness,  to  the  infinite  months 
of  waiting  he  would  have  to  endure.  Tactfully  she 
switched  him  ofF  the  line  of  sentiment  to  that  of  soberer 
politics.  She  put  forward  the  platitude  that  a  Parliamen- 

3-3 


A  Modern  Betrothal 

tary  life  was  one  of  great  interest.  Morland  did  not  rise 
even  to  this  level  of  enthusiasm. 

"  'Pon  my  soul,  I  really  don't  know  why  I  'm  going  in 
for  it.  I  promised  old  Potter  years  ago  that  I  would  come 
in  when  he  gave  up,  and  the  people  down  there  more  or 
less  took  it  for  granted,  the  duchess  included,  and  so  with- 
out having  thought  much  of  it  one  way  or  the  other,  I  find 
myself  caught  in  a  net.  It  will  be  a  horrible  bore.  The 
whole  of  the  session  will  be  one  dismal  yawn.  Never  to  be 
certain  of  sitting  down  to  one's  dinner  in  peace  and  com- 
fort. Never  to  know  when  one  will  have  to  rush  off  at  a 
moment's  notice  to  take  part  in  a  confounded  division. 
To  have  shoals  of  correspondence  on  subjects  one  knows 
nothing  of  and  cares  less  for.  It  will  be  the  life  of  a 
sweated  tailor.  And  I,  of  all  people,  who  like  to  take 
things  easy  !  I  'm  not  quite  sure  whether  I  'm  an  idiot 
or  a  hero." 

He  ended  in  a  short  laugh  and  leaned  against  the  mantel- 
piece, his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  It  would  be  the  sweet  and  pretty  thing  for  me  to  say," 
remarked  Norma,  "  that  in  my  eyes  you  will  always  be 
heroic." 

"  Well,  'pon  my  soul,  I  shall  be.  We  '11  see  precious 
little  of  one  another." 

"  We  '11  have  all  the  more  chance  of  prolonging  our 
illusions,"  she  replied. 

On  the  whole,  however,  her  conduct  towards  him  was 
irreproachable.  The  thaw  from  her  usual  iciness  to  this 
comparatively  harmless  raillery  flattered  the  lover's  self- 
esteem.  ^Woman-wise,  as  every  man  in  the  profundity  of 
his  vain  heart  believes  himself  to  be,  he  not  only  attributed 
the  change  to  his  own  powers  of  seduction,  but  interpreted 

35 


Where  Love  Is 

it  as  significant  of  a  yet  greater  transformation.  A  man  of 
Morland's  type  is  seldom  afflicted  with  a  morbid  subtlety 
of  perception;  and  when  he  has  gained  for  his  own  per- 
sonal use  and  adornment  a  woman  of  singular  distinction, 
he  may  be  readily  pardoned  for  a  slight  attack  of  fatuity. 

The  idyllic  hour  was  brought  to  a  close  by  the  return  of 
Norma's  parents.  As  Norma,  shrinking  from  the  vul- 
garity of  the  prearranged  scene  and  intolerable  maternal 
coaching  in  her  part,  had  not  informed  them*  of  her 
appointment  with  Morland,  alleging  as  an  excuse  for  not 
going  to  the  opera  a  disinclination  to  be  bored  to  tears  by 
Aida,  they  were  mildly  surprised  by  his  presence  in  the 
house  at  so  late  an  hour.  In  a  few  words  he  acquainted 
them  with  what  had  taken  place.  He  formally  asked  their 
consent.  Mr.  Hardacre  wrung  his  hand  fervently.  Mrs. 
Hardacre's  steel-grey  eyes  glittered  welcome  into  her 
family.  She  turned  to  her  dear  child  and  expressed  her 
heartfelt  joy.  Norma,  submissive  to  conventional  decen- 
cies, suffered  herself  to  be  kissed.  Mother  and  daughter 
had  given  up  kissing  as  a  habit  for  some  years  past,  though 
they  practised  it  occasionally  before  strangers.  Mr.  Hard- 
acre  put  his  arm  around  her  in  a  diffident  way  and  patted 
her  back,  murmuring  incoherent  wishes  for  her  happiness. 
Everything  to  be  said  and  done  was  effected  in  a  perfectly 
well-bred  manner.  Norma  spoke  very  little,  regarding  the 
proceedings  with  an  impersonal  air  of  satiric  interest.  At 
last  Mr.  Hardacre  suggested  to  Morland  a  chat  over 
whisky  and  soda  and  a  cigar  in  the  library.  In  unso- 
phisticated circles  it  is  not  unusual  at  such  a  conjuncture 
for  a  girl's  friends  and  relations  to  afford  the  lovers  some 
unblushing  opportunity  of  bidding  each  other  a  private 
farewell.  Norma,  anticipating  any  such  possible  though 

36 


A  Modern  Betrothal 

improbable  departure  from  sanity  on  the  part  of  her  parents, 
made  good  her  escape  after  shaking  hands  in  an  ordinary 
way  with  Morland.  Mrs.  Hardacre  followed  her  upstairs, 
eager  to  learn  details,  which  were  eventually  given  with 
some  acidity  by  her  daughter,  and  the  two  men  retired 
below. 

"  My  boy,"  said  Mr.  Hardacre,  as  they  parted  an  hour 
afterwards,  "  you  will  find  that  Norma  has  had  the  training 
that  will  make  her  a  damned  fine  woman." 


37 


Chapter   IV 
THE   GREAT   FROCK   EPISODE 

JIMMIE  PADGATE  was  the  son  of  a  retired 
commander  in  the  Navy,  of  irreproachable  birth  and 
breeding,  of  a  breezy  impulsive  disposition,  and  with 
a  pretty  talent  as  an  amateur  actor.  Finding  idleness  the 
root  of  all  boredom,  he  took'  to  the  stage,  and  during  the 
first  week  of  his  first  provincial  tour  fell  in  love  with 
the  leading  lady,  a  fragile  waif  of  a  woman  of  vague 
upbringing.  That  so  delicate  a  creature  should  have  to 
face  the  miseries  of  a  touring  life  —  the  comfortless  lodg- 
ings, the  ill-cooked  food,  the  damp  death-traps  of  dressing- 
rooms,  the  long  circuitous  Sunday  train-journeys  —  roused 
him  to  furious  indignation.  He  married  her  right  away, 
took  her  incontinently  from  things  theatrical,  and  found 
congenial  occupation  in  adoring  her.  But  the  hapless 
lady  survived  her  marriage  only  long  enough  to  see  Jimmie 
safe  into  short  frocks,  and  then  fell  sick  and  died.  The 
impulsive  sailor  educated  the  boy  in  his  own  fashion  for 
a  dozen  years  or  so,  and  then  he,  in  his  turn,  died,  leaving 
his  son  a  small  inheritance  to  be  administered  by  his  only 
brother,  an  easy-going  bachelor  in  a  Government  office. 
This  inheritance  sufficed  to  send  Jimmie  to  Harrow, 
where  he  began  his  life-long  friendship  with  Morland 
King,  and  to  the  £cole  des  Beaux-Arts  in  Paris,  where 
he  learned  many  useful  things  beside  the  method  of  paint- 


The  Great  Frock  Episode 

ing  pictures.  When  he  returned  to  London,  his  uncle 
handed  him  over  the  hundred  or  two  that  remained,  and, 
his  duty  being  accomplished,  fell  over  a  precipice  in  the 
Alps,  and  concerned  himself  no  more  about  his  nephew. 
Then  Jimmie  set  to  work  to  earn  his  living. 

When  he  snatched  the  child  Aline  from  the  embraces 
of  her  tipsy  aunt  and  carried  her  out  into  the  street, 
wondering  what  in  the  world  he  should  do  with  her,  he  was 
just  under  thirty  years  of  age.  How  he  had  earned  a  live- 
lihood till  then  and  kept  himself  free  from  debt  he  scarcely 
knew.  When  he  obtained  a  fair  price  for  a  picture,  he 
deposited  a  lump  sum  with  his  landlord  in  respect  of  rent 
in  advance,  another  sum  with  the  keeper  of  the  little  res- 
taurant where  he  ate  his  meals,  and  frittered  the  rest  away 
among  his  necessitous  friends.  In  the  long  intervals  be- 
tween sales,  he  either  went  about  penniless  or  provided 
himself  with  pocket  money  by  black  and  white  or  other 
odd  work  that  comes  in  the  young  artist's  way.  His  resi- 
dence at  that  time  consisted  in  a  studio  and  a  bedroom  in 
Camden  Town.  His  wants  were  few,  his  hopes  were 
many.  He  loved  his  art,  he  loved  the  world.  His  optimistic 
temperament  brought  him  smiles  from  all  those  with  whom 
he  came  in  contact  —  even  from  dealers,  when  he  wasted 
their  time  in  expounding  to  them  the  commercial  value  of 
an  unmarketable  picture.  He  was  quite  happy,  quite  irre- 
sponsible. When  soberer  friends  reproached  him  for  his 
hand-to-mouth  way  of  living,  he  argued  that  if  he  scraped 
to-day  he  would  probably  spread  the  butter  thick  to- 
morrow, thus  securing  the  average,  the  golden  mean,  which 
was  the  ideal  of  their  respectability.  As  for  success,  that 
elusive  will-o'-the-wisp,  the  man  who  did  not  enjoy  the 
humour  of  failure  never  deserved  to  succeed. 

39 


Where  Love  Is 

But  when  he  had  rescued  Aline  from  the  limbo  over  the 
small  apothecary's  shop,  as  thoughtlessly  and  as  gallantly 
as  his  father  before  him  had  rescued  the  delicate  lady  from 
the  trials  of  theatrical  vagabondage,  he  found  himself  face 
to  face  with  a  perplexing  problem.  That  first  night  he 
had  risen  from  an  amorphous  bed  he  had  arranged  for  him- 
self on  the  studio  floor,  and  entered  his  own  bedroom  on 
tiptoe,  and  looked  with  pathetic  helplessness  on  the  tiny 
child  asleep  beneath  his  bedclothes.  If  it  had  been  a  boy, 
he  would  have  had  no  particular  puzzle.  A  boy  could 
have  been  stowed  in  a  corner  of  the  studio,  where  he  could 
have  learned  manners  and  the  fear  of  God  and  the  way 
of  smiling  at  adversity.  He  would  have  profited  enor- 
mously, as  Jimmie  felt  assured,  by  his  education.  But 
with  a  girl  it  was  vastly  different.  An  endless  vista  of 
shadowy,  dreamy,  delicate  possibilities  perplexed  him.  He 
conceived  women  as  beings  ethereal,  with  a  range  of  ex- 
quisite emotions  denied  to  masculine  coarseness.  Even 
the  Rue  Bonaparte  had  not  destroyed  his  illusion,  and  he 
still  attributed  to  the  fair  Maenads  of  the  Bal  des  Quatre-z' 
Arts  the  lingering  fragrance  of  the  original  Psyche.  Of 
course  Jimmie  was  a  fool,  as  ten  years  afterwards  Norma 
had  decided ;  but  this  view  of  himself  not  occurring  to 
him,  he  had  to  manage  according  to  his  lights.  Here  was 
this  mysterious  embryo  goddess  entirely  dependent  on  him. 
No  corner  of  the  studio  and  rough-and-tumble  discipline 
for  her.  She  must  sleep  on  down  and  be  covered  with 
silk ;  the  airs  of  heaven  must  not  visit  her  cheek  too 
roughly ;  the  clatter  of  the  brazen  world  must  not  be 
allowed  to  deafen  her  to  her  own  sweet  inner  harmonies. 
Jimmie  was  sorely  perplexed. 

His  charwoman  next  morning  could  throw  no  light  on 


The  Great  Frock  Episode 

the  riddle.  She  had  seven  children  of  her  own,  four  of 
them  girls,  and  they  had  to  get  along  the  best  way  they 
could.  She  was  of  opinion  that  if  let  alone  and  just  phys- 
icked when  she  had  any  complaint,  Aline  would  grow  up 
of  her  own  accord.  Jimmie  said  that  this  possibility  had 
not  struck  him,  but  doubtless  the  lady  was  right.  Could 
she  tell  him  how  many  times  a  day  a  little  girl  ought  to  be 
fed  and  what  she  was  to  eat  ?  The  charwoman's  draft 
upon  her  own  family  experiences  enlightened  Jimmie  so 
far  that  he  put  a  sovereign  into  her  hand  to  provide  a 
dinner  for  her  children.  After  that  he  consulted  her  no 
more.  It  was  an  expensive  process. 

Meanwhile  it  was  obvious  that  a  studio  and  one  bed- 
room would  not  be  sufficient  accommodation,  and  Jimmie, 
greatly  daring,  took  a  house.  He  also  engaged  a  resident 
housekeeper  for  himself  and  a  respectable  cat  for  Aline, 
and  when  he  had  settled  down,  after  having  spent  every 
penny  he  could  scrape  together  on  furniture,  began  to 
wonder  how  he  could  pay  the  rent.  A  month  or  two 
before  he  would  have  as  soon  thought  of  Buying  a  palace  in 
Park  Lane  as  renting  a  house  in  St.  John's  Wood  —  a 
cheap,  shabby  little  house,  it  is  true;  but  still  a  house,  with 
drawing-room,  dining-room,  bedrooms,  and  a  studio  built 
over  the  space  where  once  the  garden  tried  to  smile.  He 
wandered  through  it  with  a  wonderment  quite  as  childish 
as  that  of  Aline,  who  had  helped  him  to  buy  the  furniture. 
But  how  was  he  ever  going  to  pay  the  rent  ? 

After  a  time  he  ceased  asking  the  question.  The  ravens 
that  fed  Elijah  provided  him  with  the  twenty  quarterly  pieces 
of  gold.  Picture-dealers  of  every  hue  and  grade  supplied 
him  with  the  wherewithal  to  live.  In  those  early  days  he 
penetrated  most  of  the  murky  byways  of  his  art  —  alleys- 

41 


Where  Love  Is 

he  would  have  passed  by  with  pinched  nose  a  year  before, 
when  an  empty  pocket  and  an  empty  stomach  concerned 
himself  alone.  Now,  when  the  money  for  the  last  picture 
had  gone,  and  no  more  was  forthcoming  by  way  of  advance 
on  royalties  on  plates,  and  the  black  and  white  market  was 
congested,  he  did  amazing  things.  He  copied  old  Masters 
for  a  red-faced,  beery  print-seller  in  Frith  Street,  who  found 
some  mysterious  market  for  them.  The  price  can  be 
gauged  by  the  fact  that  years  afterwards  Jimmie  recognised 
one  of  his  own  copies  in  an  auction  room,  and  heard  it 
knocked  down  as  a  genuine  Velasquez  for  eleven  shillings 
and  sixpence.  He  also  painted  oil  landscapes  for  a  dealer 
who  did  an  immense  trade  in  this  line,  selling  them  to 
drapers  and  fancy-warehousemen,  who  in  their  turn  retailed 
them  to  an  art-loving  public,  framed  in  gold,  at  one  and 
eleven  pence  three  farthings ;  and  the  artist's  rate  of  pay- 
ment was  five  shillings  a  dozen  —  panels  supplied,  but  not 
the  paint.  To  see  Jimmie  attack  these  was  the  child 
Aline's  delight.  In  after  years  she  wept  in  a  foolish  way 
over  the  memory.  He  would  do  half  a  dozen  at  a  time : 
first  dash  in  the  foregrounds,  either  meadows  or  stretches  of 
shore,  then  wash  in  bold,  stormy  skies,  then  a  bit  of  water, 
smooth  or  rugged  according  as  it  was  meant  to  represent 
pool  or  sea ;  then  a  few  vigorous  strokes  would  put  in  a  ship 
and  a  lighthouse  on  one  panel,  a  tree  and  a  cow  on  a  second, 
a  woman  and  a  cottage  on  a  third.  And  all  the  time,  as  he 
worked  at  lightning  speed,  he  would  laugh  and  joke  with 
the  child,  who  sat  fascinated  by  the  magic  with  which  each 
mysterious  mass  of  daubs  and  smudges  grew  into  a  living 
picture  under  his  hand.  When  his  invention  was  at  a  loss, 
he  would  call  upon  her  to  suggest  accessories ;  and  if  she 
cried  out  "windmill,"  suddenly  there  would  spring  from 

4* 


The  Great  Frock  Episode 

under  the  darting  brush-point  a  mill  with  flapping  sails 
against  the  sky.  Now  and  again  in  his  hurry  Jimmie 
would  make  a  mistake,  and  Aline  would  shriek  with 
delight  : 

"  Why,  Jimmie,  that's  a  cow  !  " 

And  sure  enough,  horned  and  uddered,  and  with  casual 
tail,  a  cow  was  wandering  over  the  ocean,  mildly  speculat- 
ing on  the  lighthouse.  Then  Jimmie  would  roar  with 
laughter,  and  he  would  tether  the  cow  to  a  buoy  and  put  in 
a  milkmaid  in  a  boat  coming  to  milk  the  cow,  and  at 
Aline's  breathless  suggestion,  a  robber  with  a  bow  and 
arrow  shooting  the  unnatural  animal  from  the  lighthouse 
top.  Thus  he  would  waste  an  hour  elaborating  the  absurd- 
ity, finishing  it  off  beautifully  so  that  it  should  be  worthy 
of  a  place  on  Aline's  bedroom  wall. 

The  months  and  years  passed,  and  Jimmie  found  him- 
self, if  not  on  the  highroad  to  fortune,  at  least  relieved  of 
the  necessity  of  frequenting  the  murky  byways  aforesaid. 
He  even  acquired  a  little  reputation  as  a  portrait  painter, 
much  to  his  conscientious  but  comical  despair.  "  I  am 
taking  people's  money  under  false  pretences,"  he  would 
say.  "  I  am  an  imaginative  painter.  I  can't  do  portraits. 
Your  real  portrait  painter  can  jerk  the  very  soul  out  of  a 
man  and  splash  it  on  to  his  face.  I  can't.  Why  do  they 
come  to  me  to  be  photographed,  when  Brown,  Jones,  or 
Robinson  would  give  them  a  portrait  ?  Why  can't  they 
buy  my  subject-pictures  which  are  good  ?  In  taking  their 
money  I  am  a  mercenary,  unscrupulous  villain  !  "  Indeed, 
if  Aline  had  not  been  there  to  keep  him  within  the  bounds 
of  sanity,  his  Quixotism  might  have  led  him  to  send  his 
clients  to  Brown  or  Jones,  where  they  could  get  better 
value  for  their  money.  But  Aline  was  there,  rising  gradu- 

43 


Where  Love  Is 

ally  from  the  little  child  into  girlhood,  and  growing  in  grace 
day  by  day.  After  all,  the  charwoman  seemed  to  be  right. 
The  tender  plant,  left  to  itself,  thrived,  shot  up  apparently 
of  its  own  accord,  much  to  Jimmie's  mystification.  It 
never  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  the  all  in  all  of  her 
training  —  her  mother,  father,  nurse,  teacher,  counsellor, 
example.  Everything  she  was  susceptible  of  being  taught 
by  a  human  being,  he  taught  her  —  from  the  common  rudi- 
ments when  she  was  a  little  child  to  the  deeper  things  of 
literature  and  history  when  she  was  a  ripening  maiden. 
Her  life  was  bound  up  with  his.  Her  mind  took  the  pre- 
vailing colour  of  his  mind  as  inevitably  as  the  grasshopper 
takes  the  green  of  grass  or  the  locust  the  grey-brown  of 
the  sand.  But  Jimmie  in  his  simple  way  regarded  the 
girl's  sweet  development  as  a  miracle  of  spontaneous 
growth. 

Yet  Aline  on  her  part  instinctively  appreciated  the  child 
in  Jimmie,  and  from  very  early  years  assumed  a  quaint 
attitude  of  protection  in  common  every-day  matters.  From 
the  age  of  twelve  she  knew  the  exact  state  of  his  financial 
affairs,  and  gravely  deliberated  with  him  over  items  of 
special  expenditure ;  and  when  she  was  fourteen  she  prof- 
ited by  a  change  in  housekeepers  to  take  upon  herself  the 
charge  of  the  household.  Her  unlimited  knowledge  of 
domestic  science  was  another  thing  that  astounded  Jimmie, 
who  to  the  end  of  hi^  days  would  have  cheerfully  given  two 
shillings  a  pound  for  potatoes.  And  thus,  while  adoring 
Jimmie  and  conscious  that  she  owed  him  the  quickening 
of  the  soul  within  her,  she  became  undisputed  mistress  of 
her  small  material  domain,  and  regarded  him  as  a  kind  of 
godlike  baby. 

At  last  there  came  a  memorable  day.  According  to  a 

44 


The  Great  Frock  Episode 

custom  five  or  six  years  old,  Jimmie  and  Aline  were  to 
spend  New  Year's  Eve  with  some  friends,  the  Frewen- 
Smiths.  He  was  a  rising  architect  who  had  lately  won  two 
or  three  important  competitions  and  had  gradually  been 
extending  his  scale  of  living.  The  New  Year's  Eve  party 
was  to  be  a  much  more  elaborate  affair  than  usual.  Aline 
had  received  a  beautifully  printed  card  of  invitation,  with 
"  Dancing  "  in  the  corner.  She  looked  through  her  slender 
wardrobe.  Not  a  frock  could  she  find  equal  to  such  a 
festival.  And  as  she  gazed  wistfully  at  the  simple  child's 
finery  laid  out  upon  her  bed,  a  desire  that  had  dawned 
vaguely  some  time  before  and  had  week  by  week  broadened 
into  craving,  burst  into  the  full  blaze  of  a  necessity.  She 
sat  down  on  her  bed  and  puckered  her  young  brows,  con- 
sidering the  matter  in  all  its  aspects.  Then,  with  her  sex's 
guilelessness,  she  went  down  to  the  studio,  where  Jimmie 
was  painting,  and  put  her  arms  round  his  neck.  Did  he 
think  she  could  get  a  new  frock  for  Mrs.  Frewen-Smith's 
party  ? 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Jimmie  in  astonishment,  "  what 
an  idiotic  question  !  " 

"  But  I  want  really  a  nice  one,"  said  Aline,  coaxingly. 

"  Then  get  one,  dear,"  said  Jimmie,  swinging  round  on 
his  stool,  so  as  to  look  at  her. 

"  But  I  'd  like  you  to  give  me  this  one  as  a  present. 
I  don't  want  it  to  be  like  the  others  that  I  help  myself  to 
and  you  know  nothing  about  —  although  they  all  are 
presents,  if  it  comes  to  that  —  I  want  you  to  give  me  this 
one  specially." 

Jimmie  laid  down  palette  and  mahl-stick  and  brush, 
and  from  a  letter-case  in  his  pocket  drew  out  three  five- 
pound  notes. 

45 


Where  Love  Is 

«  Will  this  buy  one  ?  " 

The  girl's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  Oh,  you  are  silly, 
Jimmie,"  she  cried.  "  A  quarter  of  it  will  do." 

She  took  one  of  the  notes,  kissed  him,  and  ran  out  of  the 
studio,  leaving  Jimmie  wondering  why  the  female  sex  were 
so  prone  to  weeping.  The  next  day  he  saw  a  strange 
woman  established  at  the  dining-room  table.  He  learned 
that  it  was  a  dressmaker.  For  the  next  week  an  air  of 
mystery  hung  over  the  place.  The  girl,  in  her  neat  short 
frock  and  with  her  soft  brown  hair  tied  with  a  ribbon,  went 
about  her  household  duties  as  usual ;  but  there  was  a  sub- 
dued light  in  her  eyes  that  Jimmie  noticed,  but  could  not 
understand.  Occasionally  he'enquired  about  the  new  frock. 
It  was  progressing  famously,  said  Aline.  It  was  going  to 
be  a  most  beautiful  frock.  He  would  have  seen  nothing 
like  it  since  he  was  born. 

"Vanity,  thy  name  is  little  girls,"  he  laughed,  pinching 
her  chin. 

On  the  evening  of  the  3151  of  December  Jimmie,  in  his 
well-worn  evening  suit,  came  down  to  the  dining-room, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  waited  for  Aline.  He  sat 
down  by  the  fire  with  a  book.  The  cab  that  had  been 
ordered  drew  up  outside.  It  was  a  remarkable  thing  for 
Aline  to  be  late.  After  a  while  the  door  opened,  and  a 
voice  said,  "  I  am  ready."  Jimmie  rose,  turned  round,  and 
for  a  moment  stared  stupidly  at  the  sight  that  met  his  eyes. 
It  was  Aline  certainly,  but  a  new  Aline,  quite  a  different 
Aline  from  the  little  girl  he  had  known  hitherto.  Her 
brown  hair  was  done  up  in  a  mysterious  manner  on  the  top 
of  her  head,  and  the  tip  of  a  silver-mounted  tortoise-shell 
comb  (a  present,  she  afterwards  confessed,  from  Constance 
Deering,  who  was  in  her  secret)  peeped  coquettishly  from 

46  ' 


The  Great  Frock  Episode 

the  coils.  The  fashionably-cut  white  evening  dress  showed 
her  neck  and  shoulders  and  pretty  round  arms,  and  dis- 
played in  a  manner  that  was  a  revelation  the  delicate 
curves  of  her  young  figure.  A  little  gold  locket  that 
Jimmie  had  given  her  rose  and  fell  on  her  bosom.  She 
met  his  stare  in  laughing,  blushing  defiance,  and  whisked 
round  so  as  to  present  a  side  view  of  the  costume.  The 
astonishing  thing  had  a  train. 

"  God  bless  my  soul !  "  cried  Jimmie.  "  It  never  entered 
my  head  !  " 

«  What  ?  " 

41  That  you  're  a  young  woman,  that  you  're  grown  up, 
that  we'll  have  all  the  young  men  in  the  place  falling 
in  love  with  you,  that  you  '11  be  getting  married,  and  that 
I  'm  becoming  a  decrepit  old  fogey.  Well,  God  bless  my 
soul !  " 

She  came  up  and  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  and 
kissed  him. 

"  You  think  it  becoming,  don't  you,  Jimmie  ?  " 

"  Becoming  !  Why,  it 's  ravishing  !  It 's  irresistible  !  Do 
you  mean  to  say  that  you  got  all  that,  gloves  and  shoes  and 
everything,  out  of  a  five-pound  note  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  said  Jimmie  in  astonishment. 

In  this  manner  came  realisation  of  the  fact  that  the  tiny 
child  he  had  undressed  and  put  to  sleep  in  his  own  bed  ten 
years  before  had  grown  into  a  woman.  The  shock  brought 
back  some  of  the  old  perplexities,  and  created  for  a  short 
while  an  odd  shyness  in  his  dealings  with  her.  He  treated 
her  deferentially,  regarded  apologetically  the  mean  viands 
on  which  he  forced  this  fresh-winged  goddess  to  dine,  went 
out  and  wasted  his  money  on  adornments  befitting  her 

47 


Where  Love  Is 

rank,  and  behaved  with  such  pathetic  foolishness  that 
Aline,  crying  and  laughing,  threatened  to  run  away  and 
earn  her  living  as  a  nursery-maid  if  he  did  not  amend 
his  conduct.  Whereupon  there  was  a  very  touching 
scene,  and  Jimmie's  undertaking  to  revert  to  his  pre- 
vious brutality  put  their  relations  once  more  on  a  sound 
basis ;  but  all  the  same  there  stole  into  Jimmie's  environ- 
ment a  subtle  grace  which  the  sensitive  in  him  was 
quick  to  perceive.  Its  fragrance  revived  the  tender  grace 
of  a  departed  day,  before  he  had  taken  Aline  —  a  day 
that  had  ended  in  a  woeful  flight  to  Paris,  where  he  had 
arrived  just  in  time  to  follow  through  the  streets  a  poor 
little  funeral  procession  to  a'  poor  little  grave-side  in  the 
cemetery  of  Bagneux.  Her  name  was  Sidonie  Bourdain, 
and  she  was  a  good  girl  and  had  loved  Jimmie  with  all 
her  heart. 

The  tender  grace  was  that  of  March  violets.  The 
essence  of  a  maid's  springtide  diffused  itself  through  the 
house,  and  springtide  began  to  bud  again  in  the  man's 
breast.  It  was  a  strange  hyperphysical  transfusion  of 
quickening  sap.  His  jesting  pictured  himself  as  of  a 
sudden  grown  hoary,  the  potential  father  of  a  full-blown 
woman,  two  or  three  years  short  of  grandfatherdom.  But 
these  were  words  thrown  off  from  the  very  lightness  of  a 
mood,  and  vanishing  like  bubbles  in  the  air.  Deep  down 
worked  the  craving  of  the  man  still  young  for  love  and 
romance  and  the  sweet  message  in  a  woman's  eyes.  It 
was  a  gentle  madness  —  utterly  unsuspected  by  its  victim 
—  but  a  madness  such  as  the  god  first  inflicts  upon  him 
whom  he  desires  to  drive  to  love's  destruction.  In  the 
middle  of  it  all,  while  Aline  and  himself  were  finding  a 
tentative  footing  on  the  newly  established  basis  of  their 

48 


The  Great  Frock  Episode 

relationship,  the  ironical  deity  took  him  by  the  hand  and 
led  him  into  the  cold  and  queenly  presence  of  Norma 
Hardacre. 

After  that  Jimmie  fell  back  into  his  old  ways  with  Aline, 
and  the  Great  Frock  Episode  was  closed. 


Chapter  V 

A   BROKEN   BUTTERFLY 

ArlNE  sat  in  the  studio,  the  picture  of  housewifely 
concern,  mending  Jimmie's  socks.  It  was  not 
the  unoffending  garments  that  brought  the  ex- 
pression into  her  face,  but  her  glance  at  the  old  Dutch 
clock  —  so  old  and  crotchety  that  unless  it  were  tilted  to 
one  side  it  would  not  consent  to  go  —  whose  hands  had 
come  with  an  asthmatic  whir  to  the  hour  of  eleven.  And 
Jimmie  had  not  yet  come  down  to  breakfast.  She  had 
called  him  an  hour  ago.  His  cheery  response  had  been  her 
sanction  for  putting  the  meal  into  preparation,  and  now  the 
bacon  would  be  uneatable.  She  sighed.  Taking  care  of 
Jimmie  was  no  light  responsibility.  Not  that  he  would 
complain  ;  far  from  it.  He  would  eat  the  bacon  raw  or 
calcined  if  she  set  it  before  him.  But  that  would  not  be 
for  his  good,  and  hence  the  responsibility.  In  slipping 
from  her  grasp  and  doing  the  things  he  ought  not  to  do,  he 
was  an  eel  or  a  twelve-year-old  schoolboy.  Last  night,  for 
instance,  instead  of  finishing  off  some  urgent  work  for  an 
art  periodical,  he  had  assured  her  in  his  superlative  manner 
that  it  was  of  no  consequence,  and  had  wasted  his  evening 
with  her  at  the  Earl's  Court  Exhibition.  It  had  been  warm 
and  lovely,  and  the  band  and  the  bright  crowd  had  set  her 
young  pulses  throbbing,  and  they  had  sat  at  a  little  table, 
and  Jimmie  had  given  her  some  celestial  liquid  which  she 
had  sucked  through  a  straw,  and  altogether,  to  use  her 


A  Broken  Butterfly- 
unsophisticated  dialect,  it  had  been  perfectly  heavenly. 
But  it  was  wrong  of  Jimmie  to  have  sacrificed  himself  for 
her  pleasure,  and  to  have  deceived  her  into  accepting  it. 
For  at  three  or  four  o'clock  she  had  heard  him  tiptoeing 
softly  past  her  door  on  his  way  to  bed,  and  the  finished 
work  she  had  found  on  his  table  this  morning  betrayed  his 
occupation.  Even  the  consolation  of  scolding  him  for 
oversleep  and  a  spoiled  breakfast  was  thus  denied.  She 
spread  out  her  hand  in  the  sock  so  as  to  gauge  the  extent 
of  a  hole,  and,  contemplating  it,  sighed  again. 

The  studio  was  a  vast  room  distempered  in  bluish  grey, 
and  Aline,  sitting  solitary  at  the  far  end,  in  the  line  of  a 
broad  quivering  beam  of  light  that  streamed  through  a  lofty 
window  running  the  whole  width  of  the  north-east  side, 
looked  like  a  little  brown  saint  in  a  bare  conventual  hall. 
For  an  ascetic  simplicity  was  the  studio's  key-note.  No 
curtains,  draperies,  screens,  Japaneseries,  no  artistic  scheme 
of  decoration,  no  rare  toys  of  furniture  filled  the  place  with 
luxurious  inspiration.  Here  and  there  about  the  walls 
hung  a  sketch  by  a  brother  artist;  of  his  own  unsold 
pictures  and  studies  some  were  hung,  others  stacked  to- 
gether on  the  floor.  An  old,  rusty,  leather  drawing-room 
suite  distributed  about  the  studio  afforded  sitting  accommo- 
dation. There  was  the  big  easel  bearing  the  subject-picture 
on  which  he  now  was  at  work,  with  a  smaller  easel  carrying 
the  study  by  its  side.  On  the  model-stand  a  draped  lay 
figure  sprawled  grotesquely.  A  long  deal  table  was  the 
untidy  home  of  piles  of  papers,  books,  colours,  brushes, 
artistic  properties.  A  smaller  table  at  the  end  where  Aline 
sat  was  laid  for  breakfast.  It  was  one  of  Jimmie's  eccen- 
tricities to  breakfast  in  the  studio.  The  dining-room  for 
dinner  —  he  yielded  to  the  convention;  for  lunch,  perhaps; 


Where  Love  Is 

for  breakfast,  no.  All  his  intimate  life  had  been  passed  in 
the  studio  ;  the  prim  little  drawing-room  he  scarcely  entered 
half-a-dozen  times  in  the  year. 

Aline  was  contemplating  the  hole  in  the  sock  when  the 
door  opened.  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  advanced  a  step,  and 
then  halted  with  a  little  exclamation. 

"  Oh,  it 's  you  !  " 

"  Yes.  Are  you  disappointed  ? "  asked  the  smiling 
youth  who  had  appeared  instead  of  the  expected  Jimmie. 

"  I  can  get  over  it.     How  are  you,  Tony  ?  " 

Mr.  Anthony  Merewether  gave  her  the  superfluous 
assurance  that  he  was  in  good  health.  He  had  the  pleasant 
boyish  face  and  clean-limbed'figure  of  the  young  English- 
man upon  whom  cares  sit  lightly.  Aline  resumed  her 
work  demurely.  The  young  man  seated  himself  near  by. 

"  How  is  Jimmie  ?  " 

"  Whom  are  you  calling  '  Jimmie '  ?  "  asked  Aline. 
"  Mr.  Padgate,  if  you  please." 

"You  call  him  Jimmie." 

"  I  've  called  him  so  ever  since  I  could  speak.  I  think 
it  was  one  of  the  first  three  words  I  learned.  When  you 
can  say  the  same,  you  can  call  him  Jimmie." 

"  Well,  how  is  Mr.  Padgate  ?  "  the  snubbed  youth  asked 
with  due  humility. 

"You  can  never  tell  how  a  man  is  before  breakfast. 
Why  are  n't  you  at  work  ?  " 

He  bowed  to  her  sagacity,  and  in  answer  to  her  question 
explained  the  purport  of  his  visit.  He  was  going  to  spend 
the  day  sketching  up  the  river.  Would  she  put  on  her  hat 
and  come  with  him  ? 

"  A  fine  lot  of  sketching  you  'd  do,  if  I  did,"  said  Aline. 

The  young  man  vowed  with  fervour  that  as  soon  as  he 

52 


A  Broken  Butterfly 

had  settled  down  to  a  view  he  would  work  furiously  and 
would  not  exchange  a  remark  with  her. 

"  Which  would  be  very  amusing  for  me,"  retorted  Aline. 
"  No,  I  can't  come.  I  'm  far  too  busy.  I  've  got  to  hunt 
up  a  model  for  the  new  picture." 

Tony  leant  back  in  his  chair,  dispirited,  and  began  to 
protest.  She  laughed  at  his  woeful  face,  and  half  yielding, 
questioned  him  about  trains.  He  overwhelmed  her  with  a 
rush  of  figures,  then  paused  to  give  her  time  to  recover. 
His  eyes  wandered  to  the  breakfast-table,  where  lay  Jimmie's 
unopened  correspondence.  One  letter  lay  apart  from  the 
others.  Tony  took  it  up  idly. 

11  Here  's  a  letter  come  to  the  wrong  house." 

"  No  ;  it  is  quite  right,"  said  Aline. 

"  Who  is  David  Rendell,  Esquire  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Rendell  is  a  friend  of  Jimmie's,  I  believe." 

"  I  have  never  heard  of  him.     What 's  he  like  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Jimmie  never  speaks  of  him,"  replied 
Aline. 

"That's  odd." 

The  young  man  threw  the  letter  on  the  table  and  re- 
turned to  the  subject  of  the  outing.  She  must  accompany 
him.  He  felt  a  perfect  watercolour  working  itself  up 
within  him.  One  of  those  dreamy  bits  of  backwater. 
He  had  a  title  for  it  already,  "The  Heart  of  Summer." 
The  difference  her  presence  in  the  punt  would  make  to  the 
picture  would  be  that  between  life  and  deadness. 

The  girl  fluttered  a  shy,  pleased  glance  at  him.  But  she 
loved  to  tease ;  besides,  had  she  not  but  lately  awakened  to 
the  sweet  novelty  of  her  young  womanhood  ? 

"  Perhaps  Jimmie  won't  let  me  go." 

Tony  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Jimmie  won't  let  you  go  !  " 

S3 


Where  Love  Is 

he  exclaimed  in  indignant  echo.  u  Did  he  ever  deny  you 
a  pleasure  since  you  were  born  ?  " 

Her  eyes  sparkled  at  his  tribute  to  the  adored  one's  ex- 
cellences. "  That 's  just  where  it  is,  you  see,  Tony.  His 
very  goodness  to  me  won't  let  me  do  things  sometimes." 

The  servant  hurried  in  with  the  breakfast-tray  and  the 
news  that  the  master  was  coming  down.  Aline  anxiously 
inspected  the  bacon.  To  her  relief  it  was  freshly  cooked. 
In  a  minute  or  two  a  voice  humming  an  air  was  heard  outside, 
and  Jimmie  entered,  smilingly  content  with  existence. 

"  Hallo,  Tony,  what  are  you  doing  here,  wasting  the 
morning  light  ?  Have  some  breakfast  ?  Why  have  n't 
you  laid  a  place  for  him  ?  " 

Tony  declined  the  invitation,  and  explained  his  presence. 
Jimmie  rubbed  his  hands. 

"  A  day  on  the  river  !  The  very  thing  for  Aline.  It 
will  do  her  good." 

"  I  did  n't  say  I  was  going,  Jimmie." 

"  Not  going  ?  Rubbish.  Put  on  your  things  and  be  off 
at  once." 

"  How  can  I  until  I  have  given  you  your  breakfast  ? 
And  then  there  's  the  model  —  you  would  never  be  able 
to  engage  her  by  yourself.  And  you  must  have  her 
to-morrow." 

u  I  know  I  'm  helpless,  dear,  but  I  can  engage  a  model." 

"  And  waste  your  time.  Besides,  you  won't  be  able  to 
find  the  address." 

"  There  are  cab-horses,  dear,  with  unerring  instinct." 

"  Your  breakfast  is  getting  cold,  Jimmie,"  said  Aline,  not 
condescending  to  notice  the  outrage  of  her  economic 
principles. 

Eventually  Jimmie  had  his  way.  Tony  Merewether 

54 


A  Broken  Butterfly 

was  summarily  dismissed,  but  bidden  to  return  in  an  hour's 
time,  when  Aline  would  be  graciously  pleased  to  be  ready. 
She  poured  out  Jimmie's  coffee,  and  sat  at  the  side  of  the 
table,  watching  him  eat.  He  turned  to  his  letters,  picked 
up  the  one  addressed  to  "  David  Rendell."  Aline  noticed  a 
shade  of  displeasure  cross  his  face. 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Rendell,  Jimmie  ?  "  asked  Aline. 

"  A  man  I  know,  dear,"  he  replied,  putting  the  envelope 
in  his  pocket.  He  went  on  with  his  breakfast  meditatively 
for  a  few  moments,  then  opened  his  other  letters.  He 
threw  a  couple  of  bills  across  the  table.  His  face  had  re- 
gained its  serenity 

"  See  that  these  ill-mannered  people  are  paid,  Aline." 

"  What  with,  dear  ?  " 

"  Money,  my  child,  money.  What !  "  he  exclaimed, 
noting  a  familiar  expression  on  her  face.  "  Are  we  run- 
ning short  ?  Send  them  telegrams  to  say  we  '11  pay  next 
week.  Something  is  bound  to  come  in  by  then." 

"  Mrs.  Bullingdon  ought  to  send  the  cheque  for  her 
portrait,"  said  Aline. 

"  Of  course  she  will.  And  there  's  something  due  from 
Hyam.  What  a  thing  it  is  to  have  great  expectations ! 
Here 's  one  from  Renshaw,"  he  said,  opening  another 
letter.  " c  Dear  Padgate '  —  Dear  Padgate  !  "  He  put  his 
hands  on  the  table  and  looked  across  at  Aline.  "  Now, 
what  on  earth  can  I  have  done  to  offend  him  ?  I  Ve  been 
1  Dear  Jimmie'  for  the  last  twelve  years." 

Aline  shook  her  young  head  pityingly.  "  Doo'r  you 
know  yet  that  it  is  always  l  Dear  Padgate '  when  they  want 
to  borrow  money  of  you  ?  " 

Jimmie  glanced  at  the  letter  and  then  across  the  table 
again. 

S/ 


Where  Love  Is 

"  Dear  me,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  "  Your  knowledge 
of  the  world  at  your  tender  age  is  surprising.  He  does 
want  money.  Poor  old  chap !  It  is  really  quite  touching. 
'For  the  love  of  God  lend  me  four  pounds  ten  to  carry  me 
on  to  the  end  of  the  quarter.' ' 

"  That 's  two  months  off.  Mr.  Renshaw  will  have  to 
be  more  economical  than  usual,"  said  Aline,  drily.  "  I  am 
afraid  he  drinks  dreadfully,  Jimmie." 

"  Hush,  dear  !  "  he  said,  becoming  grave.  "  A  man's  in- 
firmities are  his  infirmities,  and  we  are  not  called  upon  to  be 
his  judges.  How  much  have  we  in  the  house  altogether  ?  " 
he  asked  with  a  sudden  return  to  his  bright  manner. 

"  Ten  pounds  three  and  sixpence." 

"Why,  that's  a  fortune.  Of  course  we  can  help  Ren- 
shaw. Wire  him  his  four  pounds  ten  when  you  go  out." 

"  But,  Jimmie  —  "  expostulated  this  royal  person's  min- 
ister of  finance. 

"  Do  what  I  say,  my  dear,"  said  Jimmie,  quietly. 

That  note  in  his  voice  always  brought  about  instant  sub- 
mission, fetched  her  down  from  heights  of  pitying  protection 
to  the  prostrate  humility  of  a  little  girl  saying  "  Yes,  Jimmie," 
as  to  a  directing  providence.  She  did  not  know  from 
which  of  the  two  positions,  the  height  or  the  depth,  she 
loved  him  the  more.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  two  ranges 
of  emotion  were  perfect  complements  one  of  the  other, 
the  sex  in  her  finding  satisfaction  of  its  two  imperious 
cravings,  to  shelter  and  to  worship. 

The  Renshaw  incident  was  closed,  locked  up  as  it  were 
in  her  heart  by  the  little  snap  of  the  "Yes,  Jimmie."  One 
or  two  other  letters  were  discussed  gaily.  The  last  to  be 
opened  was  a  note  from  Mrs.  Deering.  u  Come  to  lunch 
on  Sunday  and  bring  Aline.  I  am  asking  your  friend 

56 


A  Broken  Butterfly 

Norma  Hardacre."  Aline  clapped  her  hands.  She  had 
been  longing  to  see  that  beautiful  Miss>  Hardacre  again. 
Of  course  Jimmie  would  go  ?  He  smiled.  } 

"  Another  unconscious  sitting  for  the  portrait,"  he  said. 
His  glance  wandered  to  a  strainer  that  §tood  with  its  face 
to  the  wall,  at  a  further  end  of  the  room,  and  he  became 
absent-minded.  Lately  he  had  been  dreaming  a  boy's 
shadowy  dreams,  too  sweet  as  yet  for  him  to  seek  to  give 
them  form  in  his  waking  hours.  A  warm  touch  on  his 
hand  brought  him  back  to  diurnal  things.  It  was  the 
coffee-pot  held  by  Aline. 

"  I  have  asked  you  twice  if  you  would  have  more 
coffee,"  she  laughed. 

"  I  suppose  I  'm  the  happiest  being  in  existence,"  he 
said  irrelevantly. 

Aline  poured  out  the  coffee.  "  You  have  n't  got  much 
to  make  you  happy,  poor  dear  !  "  she  remarked,  when  the 
operation  was  concluded. 

His  retort  was  checked  by  a  violent  peal  at  the  front 
door-bell  and  a  thundering  knock. 

"  That 's  Morland,"  cried  Jimmie.  "  He  is  like  the  day 
of  doom  —  always  heralds  his  approach  by  an  earthquake." 

Morland  it  was,  in  riding  tweeds,  a  whip  in  his  hand. 
He  pointed  an  upbraiding  finger  at  the  half-eaten  break- 
fast. The  sloth  of  these  painters !  Aline  flew  to  the  loved 
one's  protection.  Jimmie  had  not  gone  to  bed  till  four. 
The  poor  dear  had  to  sleep. 

"I  did  n't  get  to  bed  till  four,  either,"  said  Morland, 
with  the  healthy,  sport-loving  man's  contempt  for  people 
who  require  sleep,  u  but  I  was  up  at  eight  and  was  riding 
in  the  Park  at  nine.  Then  I  thought  I  'd  come  up  here. 
I  've  got  some  news  for  you." 

57 


Where  Love  Is 

Aline  escaped.  Morland's  air  of  health  and  prosperity 
overpowered  her.  She  did  not  dare  whisper  detraction  of 
him  to  Jimmie,  in  whose  eyes  he  was  incomparable,  but  to 
Tony  Merewether  she  had  made  known  her  wish  that 
he  did  not  look  always  so  provokingly  clean,  so  eternally 
satisfied  with  himself.  All  the  colour  of  his  mind  had  gone 
into  his  face,  was  her  uncharitable  epigram.  Aline,  it  will 
be  observed,  saw  no  advantage  in  a  tongue  perpetually 
tipped  with  honey.  c 

"  What  is  your  news  ?  "  asked  Jimmie,  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone. 

"  I  have  done  it  at  last,"  said  Morland.. 

"  What  ?  " 

"  Proposed.     I  'm  engaged.     I  'm  going  to  be  married." 

Jimmie's  honest  face  beamed  pleasure.  He  wrung 
Morland's  hand.  The  best  news  he  had  heard  for  a  long 
time.  When  had  he  taken  the  plunge  into  the  pool  of 
happiness  ? 

u  Last  night." 

"  And  you  have  come  straight  to  tell  me  ?  It  is  like 
you.  I  am  touched,  ft  is  good  to  know  you  carry  me  in 
your  heart  like  that." 

Morland  laughed.     "  My  dear  old  Jimmie  —  " 

u  I  am  so  glad.  I  never  suspected  anything  of  the  kind. 
Well,  she  's  an  amazingly  lucky  young  woman  whoever  she 
is.  When  can  I  have  a  timid  peep  at  the  divinity  ?  " 

u  Whenever  you  like  —  why,  don't  you  know  who  it 
is  ? " 

tc  Lord,  no,  man ;  how  should  I  ?  " 

"  It 's  Norma  Hardacre." 

"  Norma  Hardacre  !  "  The  echo  came  from  Jimmie  as 
from  a  hollow  cave,  and  was  followed  by  a  silence  no  less 

58 


A  Broken  Butterfly 

cavernous.     The  world  was  suddenly  reduced  to  an  empty 
shell,  black,  meaningless. 

"  Yes,"  said  Morland,  with  a  short  laugh.  He  carefully 
selected,  cut,  and  lit  a  cigar,  then  turned  his  back  and  ex- 
amined the  half-finished  picture.  He  felt  the  Briton's 
shamefacedness  in  the  novelty  of  the  position  of  affianced 
lover.  The  echo  that  in  Jimmie's  ears  had  sounded  so 
forlorn  was  to  him  a  mere  exclamation  of  surprise.  His 
solicitude  as  to  the  cigar  and  his  inspection  of  the  picture 
saved  him  by  lucky  chance  from  seeing  Jimmie's  face, 
which  wore  the  blank,  piteous  look  of  a  child  that  has  had 
its  most  cherished  possession  snatched  out  of  its  hand  and 
thrown  into  the  fire.  Such  episodes  in  life  cannot  be 
measured  by  time  as  it  is  reckoned  in  the  physical  universe. 
To  Jimmie,  standing  amid  the  chaos  of  his  dreams,  in- 
definite hours  seemed  to  have  passed  since  he  had  spoken. 
For  indefinite  hours  he  seemed  to  grope  towards  recon- 
struction. He  lived  intensely  in  the  soul's  realm,  where 
time  is  not,  was  swept  through  infinite  phases  of  emotion ; 
finally  awoke  to  a  consciousness  of  renunciation,  full  and 
generous.  Perhaps  a  minute  and  a  half  had  elapsed.  He 
crossed  swiftly  to  Morland  and  clapped  him  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  The  woman  among  all  women  I  could  have  wished 
for  you." 

His  voice  quavered  a  little;  but  Morland,  turning  round, 
saw  nothing  in  Jimmie's  eyes  but  the  honest  gladness  he 
had  taken  for  granted  he  should  find  there.  The  earnest 
scrutiny  he  missed.  He  laughed  again. 

14  There  are  not  many  in  London  to  touch  her,"  he  said 
in  his  self-satisfied  way. 

•'•  Is  there  one  ?  " 

59 


Where  Love  Is 

"You  seem  more  royalist  than  —  well,  than  Morland 
King,"  said  the  happy  lover,  chuckling  at  his  joke.  "  I 
wish  I  had  the  artist's  command  of  superlatives  as  you 
have,  Jimmie.  It  would  come  in  deuced  handy  sometimes. 
Now  if,  for  instance,  you  wanted  to  describe  the  reddest 
thing  that  ever  was,  you  would  find  some  hyperbolic  image 
for  it,  whereas  I  could  only  say  it  was  damned  red.  See 
what  I  mean  ?  " 

u  It  does  n't  matter  what  you  say,  but  what  you  feel," 
said  Jimmie.  "  Perhaps  we  hyperbolic  people  fritter  away 
emotions  in  the  mere  frenzy  of  expressing  them.  The 
mute  man  often  has  deeper  feelings." 

"  Oh,  I  'm  not  going  to  set  up  as  an  unerupted  volcano," 
laughed  Morland.  "  I  'm  only  the  average  man  that  has 
got  the  girl  he  has  set  his  heart  on  —  and  of  course  I 
think  her  in  many  ways  a  paragon,  otherwise  I  should  n't 
have  set  my  heart  on  her.  There  are  plenty  to  pick  from, 
God  knows.  And  they  let  you  know  it  too,  by  Jove. 
You  're  lucky  enough  to  live  out  of  what  is  called  Society, 
so  you  can't  realise  how  they  shy  themselves  at  you. 
Sometimes  one  has  to  be  simply  a  brute  and  dump  'em 
down  hard.  That 's  what  I  liked  about  Norma  Hardacre. 
She  required  no  dumping." 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  Jimmie. 

"There  's  one  thing  that  pleases  me  immensely,"  Mor- 
land remarked,  "  and  that  is  the  fancy  she  has  taken  for 
you.  It 's  genuine.  I  Ve  never  heard  her  talk  of  any  one 
else  as  she  does  of  you.  She  is  not  given  to  gush,  as  you 
may  have  observed." 

"  It 's  a  very  deep  pleasure  to  me  to  hear  it,"  said  Jimmie, 
looking  bravely  in  the  eyes  of  the  happy  man.  "  My  opin- 
ion of  Miss  Hardacre  I  have  told  you  already." 

60 


Morland  waved  his  cigar  as  a  sign  of  acceptance  of  the 
tribute  to  the  lady. 

"I  was  thinking  of  myself,"  he  said.  "There  are  a 
good  many  men  I  shall  have  to  drop  more  or  less  when 
I  'm  married.  Norma  would  n't  have  'em  in  the  house. 
There  are  others  that  will  have  to  be  on  probation.  Now 
I  shouldn't  have  liked  you  to  be  on  probation  —  to  run 
the  risk  of  my  wife  not  approving  of  you  —  caring  to  see 
you  — you  know  what  I  mean.  But  you  're  different  from 
anybody  else,  Jimmie.  I  'm  not  given  to  talking  sentiment 
—  but  we  've  grown  up  together — and  somehow,  in  spite 
of  our  being  thrown  in  different  worlds,  you  have  got  to 
be  a  part  of  my  life.  There !  "  he  concluded  with  a  sigh 
of  relief,  putting  on  his  hat  and  holding  out  his  hand, 
"I've  said  it!" 

The  brightening  of  Jimmie's  eyes  gave  token  of  a  heart 
keenly  touched.  Deeply  rooted  indeed  must  be  the  affec- 
tion that  could  have  impelled  Morland  to  so  unusual  a 
demonstration  of  feeling.  His  nature  was  as  responsive 
as  a  harp  set  in  the  wind.  His  counterpart  in  woman 
would  have  felt  the  tears  well  into  her  eyes.  A  man  is 
allowed  but  a  breath,  a  moisture,  that  makes  the  eyes 
bright.  Morland  had  said  the  final  word  of  sentiment ; 
equally,  utterly  true  of  himself.  Morland  was  equally 
a  part  of  his  life.  It  were  folly  to  discuss  the  reasons. 
Loyal  friendships  between  men  are  often  the  divinest  of 
paradoxes.  \~ 

The  touch  upon  Jimmie's  heart  was  magnetic.  It 
soothed  pain.  It  set  free  a  flood  of  generous  emotion, 
even  thanksgiving  that  he  was  thus  allowed  vicarious  joy 
in  infinite  perfections.  It  was  vouchsafed  him  to  be  happy 
in  the  happiness  of  two  dear  to  him.  This  much  he  said 

61 


Where  Love  Is 

to  Morland,  wi*:h  what  intensity  of  meaning  the  fortunate 
lover  was  a  myriad  leagues  from  suspecting. 

44  I  '11  see  you  safely  mounted,"  said  Jimmie,  opening  the 
studio  door.  Then  suddenly  like  a  cold  wind  a  memory 
buffeted  him.  He  shut  the  door  again. 

"  I  forgot.  I  have  a  letter  for  you.  It  came  this 
morning." 

Morland  took  the  letter  addressed  to  "  David  Rendell  " 
which  Jimmie  drew  from  his  pocket,  and  uttered  an  angry 
exclamation. 

44 1  tnought  this  infernal  business  was  over  and  done 
with." 

He  tore  open  the  envelope,  read  the  contents,  then  tilted 
his  hat  to  the  back  of  his  head,  and  sitting  down  on  one  of 
the  dilapidated  straight-backed  chairs  of  the  leather  suite, 
looked  at  Jimmie  in  great  perplexity.  In  justice  to  the 
man  it  must  be  said  that  anger  had  vanished. 

41 1  suppose  you  know  what  these  letters  mean  that  you 
have  been  taking  in  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  permitted  myself  to  speculate,"  said 
Jimmie.  4t  You  asked  me  to  do  you  a  very  great  service. 
It  was  a  little  one.  You  are  not  a  man  to  do  anything 
dishonourable.  I  concluded  you  had  your  reasons,  which 
it  would  have  been  impertinent  of  me  to  inquire  into." 

It 's  the  usual  thing,"  said  Morland,  with  a  self-incrim- 
inatory shrug.     "A  girl." 

44  A  love  affair  was  obvious." 

Morland  spat  out  an  exclamation  of  impatient  disgust  for 
himself  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

44  Heaven  knows  how  it  began  —  she  was  poor  and 
lonely  —  almost  a  lady  —  and  she  had  beauty  and  manners 
and  that  sort  of  thing  above  h«r  class." 

62 


A  Broken  Butterfly 

"  They  always  have,"  said  Jimmie,  with  a  pained  ex- 
pression. "  You  need  n't  tell  me  the  story.  It 's  about  the 
miserablest  on  God's  earth,  is  n't  it  now  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so.    Upon  my  soul,  I  'm  not  a  beast,  Jimmie ! " 

The  unwonted  rarefied  air  of  sentiment  that  he  had 
been  breathing  for  the  last  twelve  hours  had,  as  it  were, 
intoxicated  him.  Had  the  letter  reached  him  the  day 
before,  he  would  have  left  the  story  connected  with  it  in 
the  cold-storage  depository  where  men  are  wont  to  keep 
such  things.  No  one  would  have  dreamed  of  its  exist- 
ence. But  now  he  felt  an  exaggerated  remorse,  a  craving 
for  confession,  and  yet  he  made  the  naked  remorseful  hu- 
man's instinctive  clutch  at  palliatives. 

"  Upon  my  soul,  I  'm  not  a  beast,  Jimmie.  I  swear  I 
loved  her  at  first.  You  know  what  it  is.  You  yourself 
loved  a  little  girl  in  Paris  —  you  told  me  about  it  —  did  n't 
you?" 

Jimmie  set  his  teeth,  and  said,  u  Yes." 

Morland  went  on. 

"  Some  women  have  ways  with  them,  you  know.  They 
turn  you  into  one  of  those  toy  thermometers  —  you  hold 
ihe  bulb,  and  the  spirit  in  it  rises  and  bubbles.  She  got 
hold  of  me  that  way  —  I  bubbled,  I  suppose  —  it  was  n't 
her  fault,  she  was  sweet  and  innocent.  It  was  her  nature. 
You  artistic  people  call  the  damned  thing  a  temperament, 
I  believe.  Anyhow  I  was  in  earnest  at  the  beginning. 
Then  —  one  always  does  —  I  found  it  was  only  a  passing 
fancy." 

"  And  like  a  passing  cab  it  has  splashed  you  with  mud. 
How  does  the  matter  stand  now  ?  " 

"  Read  this,"  said  Morland,  handing  him  the  letter. 

"  Dearest,"  it  ran,  "  the  time  is  coming  when  you  can 

63 


Where  Love  Is 

be  very  good  to  me.  Jenny."  That  was  all.  Jimmie, 
holding  the  paper  in  front  of  him,  looked  up  distressfully 
at  Morland. 

" l  The  time  is  coming  when  you  can  be  very  good  to 
me.'  How  confoundedly  pathetic  !  Poor  little  girl !  Oh, 
damn  it,  Morland,  you  are  going  to  be  good  to  her,  are  n't 
you  ? " 

"  I  '11  do  all  I  can.  Of  course  I  '11  do  all  I  can.  I  tell 
you  I  'm  not  a  beast.  Heaps  of  other  men  would  n't  care 
a  hang  about  it.  They  would  tell  her  to  go  to  the  devil. 
I  'm  not  that  sort." 

"  I  know  you  *re  not,"  said  Jimmie. 

Morland  lit  another  cigar  with  the  air  of  a  man  whose 
virtues  deserve  some  reward. 

"The  letter  can  only  have  one  interpretation.  Have 
you  known  of  it?" 

"Never  dreamed  of  it." 

"  Was  there  any  question  of  marriage  ?  " 

"None  whatever.  Difference  of  position  and  all  the 
rest  of  it.  She  quite  understood.  In  fact,  it  was  Jike  your 
Quartier  Latin  affair." 

Jimmie  winced.  "It  wasn't  the  Quartier  Latin  —  and 
I  was  going  to  marry  her  —  only  she  died  before  —  oh, 
don't  mind  me,  Morland.  What 's  going  to  be  done  now  ? " 

Morland  shrugged  his  shoulders  again,  having  palliated 
himself  into  a  more  normal  condition.  His  conscience,  to 
speak  by  the  book,  was  clothed  and  in  its  right  mind. 

"It's  infernally  hard  lines  it  should  come  just  at  this 
time.  You  see,  I  've  heaps  of  things  to  think  about.  My 
position  —  Parliament  —  I  'm  going  to  contest  Cosford  in 
the  autumn.  If  the  constituency  gets  hold  of  any  scandal, 
I  'm  ruined.  You  know  the  Alpine  heights  of  morality  of 

64 


A  Broken  Butterfly 

> 

a  British  constituency  —  and  there's  always  some  moral 
scavenger  about.  And  then  there  's  Norma  —  " 

"  Yes,  there 's  Norma,"  said  Jimmie,  seriously. 

"It 's  unpleasant,  you  see.     If  she  should  know  —  " 

"It  would  break  her  heart,"  said  Jimmie. 

Morland  started  and  looked  at  Jimmie  stupidly,  his 
mental  faculties  for  the  second  paralysed,  incapable  of 
grappling  with  the  idea.  Was  it  scathing  sarcasm  or  sheer 
idiocy?  Recovering  his  wits,  he  realised  that  Jimmie  was 
whole-heartedly,  childishly  sincere.  With  an  effort  he 
controlled  a  rebellious  risible  muscle  at  the  corner  of  his 
lip. 

"  It  would  give  her  great  pain,"  he  said  in  grave  acqui- 
escence. 

"  It 's  a  miserable  business,"  said  Jimmie. 

Morland  paced  the  studio.     Suddenly  he  stopped. 

"  Should  there  be  any  unpleasantness  over  this,  can  I 
rely  on  your  help  to  pull  me  through  ?  " 

"  You  know  you  can,"  said  Jimmie. 

Morland  looked  relieved. 

"  May  I  write  a  note  ?  " 

Jimmie  pointed  to  a  corner  of  the  long  deal  table. 

"  You  'II  find  over  there  all  the  materials  for  mending  a 
broken  butterfly,"  he  said  sadly. 


Chapter  VI 
THE   LOVERS 

PROUD  in  the  make-believe  that  he  was  a  fashion- 
able groom,  the  loafer  holding  Morland's  horse 
touched  his  ragged  hat  smartly  at  his  temporary 
master's  approach. 

"  Give  him  something,  Jimmie  ;  I  have  n't  any  change," 
cried  Morland.  He  mounted  and  rode  away,  debonair, 
with  a  wave  of  farewell.  Jimmie  drew  from  his  pocket 
the  first  coin  to  hand,  a  florin,  and  gave  it  to  the  loafer, 
who  came  down  forthwith  from  his  dreams  of  high  estate 
to  commonplace  earth,  and  after  the  manner  of  his  class 
adjured  the  Deity  to  love  the  munificent  gentleman.  The 
two  shillings  would  bring  gladness  into  the  hearts  of  his 
sick  wife  and  starving  children.  Subject  to  the  attestation 
of  the  Deity,  he  put  forward  as  a  truth  the  statement  that 
they  had  not  eaten  food  for  a  week.  He  himself  was  a 
hard-working  man,  but  the  profession  of  holding  horses  in 
the  quiet  roads  of  St.  John's  Wood  was  not  lucrative. 

"  You  're  telling  me  lies,  I  'm  afraid,"  said  Jimmie, 
"  but  you  look  miserable  enough  to  say  anything.  Here  ! ' 

He  gave  him  two  more  shillings.  The  loafer  thanked 
him  and  made  a  bee-line  for  the  nearest  public-house,  while 
Jimmie,  forgetting  for  the  moment  the  pitiable  aspect  that 
poor  humanity  sometimes  wears  in  the  persons  of  the 
lowly,  watched  Morland's  well-set-up  figure  disappear  at 
the  turn  of  the  road.  There  was  no  sign  of  black  care 

66 


The  Lovers 

sitting  behind  that  rider.  It  perched  instead  on  Jimmie's 
shoulders,  and  there  stayed  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  In 
spite  of  his  staunch  trust  in  Morland's  honour  and  upright- 
ness, he  found  it  hard  to  condone  the  fault.  The  parallel 
which  Morland  had  not  too  ingenuously  drawn  with  the 
far-away  passionate  episode  in  his  own  life  had  not  seemed 
just.  He  had  winced,  wondered  at  the  failure  in  tact, 
rebelled  against  the  desecration  of  a  memory  so  exquisitely 
sad.  The  moment  after  he  had  forgiven  the  blundering 
friend  and  opened  his  heart  again  to  pity.  He  was  no 
strict  moralist,  turning  his  head  sanctimoniously  aside  at 
the  sight  of  unwedded  lovers.  His  heart  was  too  big  and 
generous.  But  between  the  romance  of  illicit  love  and  the 
commonplace  of  vulgar  seduction  stretched  an  immeasur- 
able distance.  The  words  of  the  pathetic  note,  however, 
lingering  in  his  mind,  brought  with  them  a  redeeming  fra- 
grance. They  conjured  up  the  picture  of  sweet  woman- 
hood. They  hinted  no  reproach  ;  merely  a  trust  which 
was.  expected  to  be  fulfilled.  To  her  Morland  was  the 
honourable  gentleman  all  knew ;  he  had  promised  nothing 
that  he  had  not  performed,  that  he  would  not  perform.  All 
day  long,  as  he  sat  before  his  easel,  mechanically  copying 
folds  of  drapery  from  the  lay  figure  on  the  platform,  Jimmie 
strove  to  exonerate  his  friend  from  the  baser  fault,  and  to 
raise  the  poor  love  affair  to  a  plane  touched  by  diviner  rays. 
But  the  black  care  still  sat  upon  his  shoulders. 

The  next  morning  he  rose  earlier  than  usual,  and  sought 
Morland  at  his  house  in  Sussex  Gardens.  He  found  him 
eating  an  untroubled  breakfast.  Silver  dishes,  tray,  and 
service  were  before  him.  A  great  flower-stand  filled  with 
Marechal  Niel  roses  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  table.  Fine 
pictures  hung  round  the  walls.  Rare  china,  old  oak  chairs, 

67 


Where  Love  Is 

and  sideboard  bright  with  silver  bowls —  all  the  harmonious 
and  soothing  luxury  of  a  rich  man's  dining-room,  gave  the 
impression  of  ease,  of  a  life  apart  from  petty  cares,  petty 
vices,  petty  ambitions.  A  thick  carpet  sheltered  the  ears 
from  the  creaking  footsteps  of  indiscretion.  Awnings 
before  the  open  windows  screened  the  too  impertinent 
light  of  the  morning  sun.  And  the  face  and  bearing  of 
the  owner  of  the  room  were  in  harmony  with  its  atmos- 
phere. Jimmie  reproached  himself  for  the  doubts  that  had 
caused  his  visit.  Morland  laughed  at  them.  Had  he  not 
twice  or  thrice  declared  himself  not  a  beast  ?  Surely 
Jimmie  must  trust  his  oldest  friend  to  have  conducted 
himself  honourably.  There  was  never  question  of  mar- 
riage. There  had  been  no  seduction.  Could  n't  he  under- 
stand ?  They  had  parted  amicably  some  three  months 
ago,  each  a  little  disillusioned.  Morland  was  generous 
enough  to  strip  a  man's  vanity  from  himself  and  stand 
confessed  as  one  of  whom  a  superior  woman  had  grown 
tired.  The  new  development  of  the  affair  revealed  yester- 
day had,  he  repeated,  come  upon  him  like  an  unexpected 
•lash.  The  irony  of  it,  too,  in  the  first  flush  of  his  engage- 
ment !  Naturally  he  was  remorseful ;  naturally  he  would 
do  all  that  a  man  of  honour  could  under  the  circumstances. 

"  More  is  not  expected  and  not  wanted.  On  my  word 
of  honour,"  said  Morland. 

He  had  been  upset,  he  continued  smilingly.  The  con- 
sequences might  be  serious  —  to  himself,  not  so  much  to 
Jenny.  There  were  complications  in  the  matter  that 
might  be  tightened — not  by  Jenny  —  into  a  devil  of  a 
tangle.  Had  he  not  pleaded  special  urgency  when  he  had 
first  asked  Jimmie  to  take  in  the  letters  under  a  false 
name/?  It  might  be  a  devil  of  a  tangle,  he  repeated. 

68 


The  Lovers 

"  But  till  that  happens — and  please  God  it  may  never 
happen  —  we  may  dismiss  the  whole  thing  from  our 
minds,"  said  Morland,  reassuringly.  "  Jenny  will  want 
for  nothing,  and  want  nothing.  Do  you  think  if  there 
were  any  melodramatic  villainy  on  my  conscience  I  would 
go  and  engage  myself  to  marry  Norma  Hardacre  ?  " 

This  was  the  final  argument  that  sent  the  black  care, 
desperately  clinging  with  the  points  of  its  claws,  into  infinite 
space.  Jimmie  smiled  again.  Morland  waved  away  the 
uncongenial  topic  and  called  for  a  small  bottle  of  champagne 
on  ice.  A  glass  apiece,  he  said,  to  toast  the  engagement. 
Rightly,  champagne  was  the  wine  of  the  morning. 

"It  is  the  morning  sunshine  itself  distilled,"  said  Jimmie, 
lifting  up  his  glass. 

He  went  home  on  the  top  of  an  omnibus  greatly  cheered, 
convinced  that,  whatever  had  happened,  Morland  had 
done  no  grievous  wrong.  When  Aline  went  to  the  studio 
to  summon  him  to  lunch,  she  found  him  busy  upon  the 
sketch  portrait  of  Norma,  and  humming  a  tune  —  a  habit  of 
his  when  work  was  proceeding  happily  under  his  fingers. 
She  looked  over  his  shoulder  critically. 

"  That 's  very  good,"  she  condescended  to  remark. 
"Now  that  Miss  Hardacre  is  engaged  to  Mr.  King,  why 
don't  you  ask  her  to  come  and  sit  ? " 

"  Do  you  think  it 's  a  good  likeness  ?  "  he  asked,  leaning 
back  and  regarding  the  picture. 

"  It  is  the  best  likeness  you  have  ever  got  in  a  portrait," 
replied  Aline,  truthfully. 

"  Then,  wisest  of  infants,  what  reason  could  I  have  for 
asking  Miss  Hardacre  to  sit  ?  Besides,  I  don't  want  her 
to  know  anything  about  it." 

Aline  glowed  with  inspiration.  Why  should  things  the 

69 


Where  Love  Is 

most  distantly  connected  with  somebody  else's  marriage 
so  exhilarate  the  female  heart  ? 

"  Is  it  going  to  be  a  wedding  present,  Jimmie  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  study  in  indiscretion,  my  child,"  he  replied 
enigmatically. 

"  You  are  perfectly  horrid." 

"  I  suppose  I  am,"  he  admitted,  looking  at  the  portrait 
with  some  wistfulness.  "  Ugly  as  sin,  and  with  as  much 
manners  as  a  kangaroo  cr-  does  your  feminine  wisdom 
think  a  woman  could  ever  fall  in  love  with  me  ?  " 

She  touched  caressingly  the  top  of  his  head  where  the  hair 
was  thinning,  and  her  feminine  wisdom  made  this  astound- 
ing answer: 

"  Why,  you  are  too  old,  Jimmie  dear." 

Too  old  !  He  turned  and  regarded  her  for  a  moment 
in  rueful  wonder.  Absurd  though  it  was,  the  statement 
gave  him  a  shock.  He  was  barely  forty,  and  here  was  this 
full-grown,  demure,  smiling  young  woman  telling  him  he 
was  too  old  for  any  of  her  sex  to  trouble  their  heads  about 
him.  His  forlorn  aspect  brought  a  rush  of  colour  to  the 
girl's  cheeks.  She  put  her  arms  round  his  neck. 

"  Oh,  Jimmie,  I  have  hurt  you.  I  'm  sorry.  I  'm  a  silly 
little  goose.  It 's  a  wonder  that  every  woman  on  earth 
isn't  in  love  with  you." 

"  That  is  the  tone  of  exaggerated  affection,  but  not  of 
conviction,"  he  said.  "  I  am  the  masculine  of  what  in  a 
woman  is  termed  passee.  I  might  gain  the  esteem  of  a 
person  of  the  opposite  sex  elderly  like  myself,  but  my 
gallant  exterior  can  no  longer  inspire  a  romantic  passion. 
My  day  is  over.  No,  you  have  not  hurt  me.  The  sword 
of  truth  pierces,  but  it  does  not  hurt." 

Then  he  broke  into  his  good,  sunny  laughter,  and  rose 

70 


The  Lovers 

and  put  his  arm  with  rough  tenderness  round  her  shoulder, 
as  he  had  done  ever  since  she  could  walk. 

"  You  are  the  youngest  thing  I  have  come  across  for  a 
long  time." 

Aline,  as  she  nestled  up  against  him  on  their  way  out 
of  the  studio,  was  thus  impressed  with  a  salutary  con- 
sciousness of  her  extreme  youth.  But  this  in  itself  magnified 
Jimmie's  age.  She  loved  him  with  a  pure  passionate 
tenderness  ;  no  one,  she  thought,  could  know  him  without 
loving  him  ;  but  her  ideal  of  the  hero  of  romance  for  whom 
fair  ladies  pined  away  in  despairing  secret  was  far  different. 
She  was  too  young  as  yet,  too  little  versed  in  the  signs 
by  which  the  human  heart  can  be  read,  to  suspect  what 
his  playful  question  implied  of  sadness,  hopelessness, 
renunciation. 

On  Sunday  they  lunched  with  Connie  Deering.  Morland 
and  Norma  and  old  Colonel  Pawley,  an  ancient  acquaint- 
ance of  every  one,  were  the  only  other  guests.  It  was 
almost  a  family  party,  cried  Connie,  gaily  ;  and  it  had  been 
an  inspiration,  seeing  that  the  invitations  had  been  sent 
out  before  the  engagement  had  taken  place.  Jimmie  and 
Aline,  being  the  first  arrivals,  had  their  hostess  to  themselves 
for  a  few  moments. 

"  They  both  think  it  bad  form  to  show  a  sign  of  it, 
but  they  are  awfully  gone  upon  each  other,"  Connie  said. 
"  So  you  must  n't  judge  Norma  by  what  she  says.  All 
girls  like  to  appear  cynical  nowadays.  It  's  the  fashion. 
But  they  fall  in  love  in  the  same  silly  way,  just  as  they 
used  to." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  they  are  fond  of  one  another,"  said 
Jimmie.  "The  deeper  their  love  the  happier  I  shall 


71 


Where  Love  Is 

The  little  lady  looked  at  him  for  a  second  out  of  the 
corner  of  her  eye. 

"  What  an  odd  thing  to  say  !  " 

"  It  ought  to  be  a  commonplace  thing  to  feel." 

"  In  the  happiness  of  others  there  is  always  something 
that  is  pleasing.  By  giving  him  the  lie  like  that  you  will 
make  poor  Rochefoucauld  turn  in  his  grave." 

"  He  ought  to  be  kept  revolving  like  Ixion,"  said 
Jimmie.  "  His  maxims  are  the  Beatitudes  of  Hell." 

He  laughed  off  the  too  trenchant  edge  of  his  epigram, 
qualifying  it  in  his  kind  way.  After  all,  you  must  n't  take 
your  cynic  too  literally.  No  -doubt  a  kindly  heart  beats  in 
the  ducal  bosom. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  your  real  opinion  of  the  devil," 
laughed  Mrs.  Deering. 

The  opportunity  for  so  doing  was  lost  for  the  moment. 
The  lovers  entered,  having  driven  together  from  the  Park. 
At  the  sight  of  Norma,  Aline  twitched  Jimmie's  arm  with 
a  little  gasp  of  admiration  and  Jimmie's  breath  came  faster. 
He  had  not  seen  her  hitherto  quite  so  coldly,  radiantly 
beautiful.  Perhaps  it  was  the  great  white  hat  she  wore,  a 
mystery  of  millinery,  chiffon  and  roses  and  feathers  melting 
one  with  the  other  into  an  effect  of  broad  simplicity,  that 
formed  an  unsanctified  but  alluring  halo  to  a  queenly  head. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  elaborately  simple  cream  dress,  open- 
worked  at  neck  and  arms,  that  moulded  her  ripe  figure  into 
especial  stateliness.  Perhaps,  thought  poor  Jimmie,  it  was 
the  proud  loveliness  into  which  love  was  wont  to  trans- 
figure princesses. 

She  received  Connie's  kiss  and  outpouring  of  welcome 
with  her  usual  mocking  smile.  "  If  you  offer  me  congratu- 
lations, I  shall  go  away,  Connie.  I  have  been  smirking 

72 


The  Lovers 

for  the  last  hour  and  a  half.  We  were  so  exhausted  by 
playing  the  sentimental  idiots  that  we  did  n't  exchange  a 
word  on  our  way  here ;  though  I  believe  Morland  likes 
it.  We  saw  those  dreadful  Fry-Robertsons  bearing  down 
upon  us.  He  actually  dragged  me  up  to  meet  them,  as 
who  should  say  '  Let  us  go  up  and  get  congratulated.' ' 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should  hide  my  luck  under  a  bushel,'* 
laughed  Morland. 

"  Thank  you  for  the  compliment,"  said  Norma,  "  But 
if  you  won  at  Monte  Carlo  you  would  n't  pin  the  bank- 
notes all  over  your  coat  and  strut  about  the  street.  By  the 
way,  Connie,  we're  late.  Need  we  apologise?  " 

"You  're  not  the  last.     Colonel  Pawley  is  coming." 

"  Oh  dear  !  that  old  man  radiates  boredom.  How  can 
you  stand  him,  Connie  ?  " 

"  He 's  the  sweetest  thing  on  earth,"  said  her  hostess. 

Norma  laughed  a  little  contemptuously  and  came  forward 
to  greet  Aline  and  Jimmie.  As  she  did  so,  her  face  softened. 
Jimmie,  drawing  her  aside,  offered  his  best  wishes. 

"The  happiness  of  a  man  whom  I  have  loved  like  a 
brother  all  my  life  can't  be  indifferent  to  me.  On  that 
account  you  must  forgive  my  speaking  warmly.  May  you 
be  very  happy." 

"  I  shall  be  happy  in  having  such  a  champion  of  my 
husband  for  a  brother-in-law,"  said  Norma,  lightly. 

"A  loyal  friend  of  your  own,  if  you  will,"  said  Jimmie. 

There  was  a  short  pause.  Norma  ran  the  tip  of  her 
gloved  finger  down  the  leaf  of  a  plant  on  a  stand.  They 
were  by  the  window.  A  vibration  in  his  voice  vaguely 
troubled  her. 

"  What  do  you  really  mean  by  i  loyal'  ?  "  she  said  at  last, 
without  looking  at  him. 


Where  Love  Is 

u  The  word  has  but  one  meaning.  If  I  tried  to  explain 
further,  I  should  only  appear  to  be  floundering  in  fatuity." 

"  I  believe  you  are  the  kind  that  would  stick  to  a  woman 
through  thick  and  thin,  through  good  repute  and  ill  repute. 
That 's  what  you  mean.  Only  you  don't  like  to  hint  that 
I  might  at  any  time  become  disreputable.  I  may.  All 
things  are  possible  in  this  world." 

"  Not  that,"  said  Jimmie.  "  Perhaps  I  was  uncon- 
sciously pleading  for  myself.  Say  you  are  a  queen 
in  your  palace.  While  humbly  soliciting  a  position  in 
your  household,  I  somewhat  grandiloquently  submit  my 
qualifications." 

"  What 's  all  this  about  ?  "  asked  Morland,  coming  up, 
having  overheard  the  last  sentence. 

"  I  am  pleading  for  a  modest  position  in  Her  Majesty's 
Household,"  said  Jimmie. 

"We  '11  fit  him  up  with  cap  and  bells,"  laughed  Morland, 
"  and  make  him  chief  jester,  and  give  him  a  bladder  to 
whack  us  over  the  head  with.  He 's  fond  of  doing  that 
when  we  misbehave  ourselves.  Then  he  can  get  us  out 
of  our  scrapes,  like  the  fellow  in  Dumas  —  what 's  his  name 
—  Chicot,  was  n't  it  ?  " 

Pleased  with  his  jest,  he  turned  to  acquaint  Connie  with 
Jimmie's  new  dignity.  Both  the  jest  and  the  laugh  that 
greeted  it  jarred  upon  Norma.  Jimmie  said  to  her  good- 
humouredly : 

"  I  might  be  Chicot,  the  loyal  friend,  without  the  cap  an<J 
bells.  I  am  a  dull  dog." 

She  looked  out  of  the  window  and  laughed  somewhat 
bitterly. 

"  I  think  you  are  a  great  deal  too  good  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  any  of  us." 

.  74 


The  Lovers 

"  It  pleases  you  to  talk  arrant  nonsense,"  said  he. 

Luncheon  was  announced.  At  table  Jimmie  and  Norma 
were  neighbours.  Aline  sat  between  Morland,  who  was 
next  to  Norma,  and  old  Colonel  Pawley.  As  the  latter  at 
first  talked  to  Mrs.  Deering,  Aline  and  Morland  carried 
on  a  frigid  conversation.  They  had  never  been  friends. 
To  Morland,  naturally,  she  was  merely  a  little  girl  of  no 
account,  who  had  often  been  annoyingly  in  the  way  when 
he  wanted  to  converse  with  Jimmie ;  and  Aline,  with  a 
little  girl's  keen  intuition,  had  divined  more  of  his  real 
character  than  she  was  aware  of,  and  disliked  and  distrusted 
him.  Like  a  well-brought-up  young  lady  she  answered 
"  yes  "  and  "  no  "  politely  to  his  remarks,  but  started  no 
fresh  topic.  At  last,  to  her  relief,  Colonel  Pawley  rescued 
her  from  embarrassed  silence.  To  him  she  had  extended 
her  favour.  He  was  a  short  fat  man,  with  soft  hands  and 
a  curious  soft  purring  voice,  and  the  air  rather  of  a  com- 
fortable old  lady  than  of  a  warrior  who  had  retired  on 
well-merited  laurels.  He  occupied  his  plentiful  leisure  by 
painting  on  silk,  which  he  made  into  fans  for  innumerable 
lady  acquaintances.  In  his  coat-tail  pocket  invariably  re- 
posed a  dainty  volume  bound  in  crushed  morocco — a  copy  of 
little  poems  of  his  own  composition — and  this,  when  he  was 
in  company  with  a  sympathetic  feminine  soul,  he  would 
abstract  with  apoplectic  wheezing  and  bashfully  present. 
He  also  played  little  tunes  on  the  harp.  Aline,  with 
the  irreverence  of  youth,  treated  him  as  a  kind  of  human 
toy. 

His  first  word  roused  the  girl's  spontaneous  gaiety.  She 
bubbled  over  with  banter.  The  mild  old  warrior  chuckled 
with  her,  threw  himself  unreservedly  into  the  childish  play. 
Connie  whispered  to  Jimmie  : 

75 


Where  Love  Is  * 

"  I  shoul  1  like  to  tie  a  bit  of  blue  ribbon  round  his  neck 
and  turn  him  loose  in  a  meadow.  I  am  sure  he  would 
frisk." 

Morland  exchanged  casual  remarks  with  Norma.  She 
answered  absently.  The  change  in  Aline  from  the  unsmil- 
ing primness  wherewith  Morland's  society  had  cloaked  her 
to  sunny  merriment  with  Colonel  Pawley  was  too  marked 
to  escape  her  attention.  In  spite  of  the  ludicrousness  of 
the  comparison,  she  could  not  help  perceiving  that  the  old 
man  who  radiated  boredom  had  a  quality  of  charm  unpos- 
sessed by  Morland,  and  she  felt  absurdly  disappointed  with 
her  lover.  During  the  last  Jew  days  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  like  him.  Sober  forecast  of  a  lifetime  spent  in  the 
inevitable  intimacy  of  marriage  had  forced  her  to  several 
conclusions.  One,  that  it  was  essential  to  daily  comfort 
that  a  woman  should  find  the  personality  of  a  husband 
pleasing  rather  than  antipathetic.  With  more  ingenuous- 
ness than  the  world  would  have  put  to  her  credit,  she  had 
set  herself  deliberately  to  attain  this  essential  ideal.  The 
natural  consequence  was  a  sharply  critical  attitude  and  a 
quickly  developing  sensitiveness,  whereby,  as  in  a  balance 
of  great  nicety,  the  minor  evidences  of  his  character  were 
continually  being  estimated.  Thus,  Morland's  jest  before 
luncheon  had  jarred  upon  her.  His  careless  air  of  patron- 
age had  betrayed  a  lack  of  appreciation  of  something  —  the 
word  "  spiritual "  was  not  in  her  vocabulary,  or  she  might 
have  used  it  —  of  something,  at  all  events,  in  his  friend 
which  differentiated  him  from  the  casual  artist  and  which 
she  herself  had,  not  without  discomfort,  divined  at  their 
first  meeting.  The  remark  had  appeared  to  her  in  bad 
taste.  Still  ruffled,  she  became  all  the  more  critical,  and 
noted  with  displeasure  his  failure  to  have  won  a  child's 

76 


The  Lovers 

esteem.  And  yet  she  felt  a  touch  of  resentment  against 
Jimmie  for  being  the  innocent  cause  of  her  discomposure. 
It  gave  rise  to  a  little  feline  impulse  to  scratch  him  and 
see  whether  he  were  not  mortal  like  every  one  else. 

"  Do  you  ever  exhibit  at  the  Royal  Academy  ? "  she 
asked  suddenly. 

"  They  won't  have  me,"  said  he. 

"  But  you  send  in,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  With  heart-breaking  regularity.  They  did  have  me 
once."  He  sighed.  "  But  that  was  many  years  ago,  when 
the  Academy  was  young  and  foolish." 

"  I  have  heard  they  are  exceedingly  conservative,"  said 
Norma,  with  the  claws  still  unsheathed.  "  Perhaps  you 
work  on  too  original  lines." 

But  she  could  draw  from  him  no  expression  of  vanity. 
He  smiled.  "  I  suppose  they  don't  think  my  pictures 
good  enough,"  he  said  simply. 

"  Jimmie's  work  is  far  too  good  for  that  wretched  Acad- 
emy," said  Connie  Deering.  "The  pictures  there  always 
give  you  a  headache.  Jimmie's  never  do." 

"  I  should  like  to  kill  the  Academy,"  Aline  broke  in 
sharply,  on  the  brink  of  tears.  A  little  tragedy  of  murdered 
hopes  lurked  in  her  tone.  Then,  seeing  that  she  had 
caused  a  startled  silence,  she  reddened  and  looked  at  her 
plate.  Jimmie  laughed  outright. 

"  Is  n't  she  bloodthirsty  ?  All  the  seventy  of  them 
weltering  in  their  gore !  Only  the  other  day  she  said  she 
would  like  to  slaughter  the  whole  Chinese  Empire,  because 
they  ate  puppies  and  birds'-nests  !  " 

Connie  chimed  a  frivolous  remark  in  tune  with  Jimmie. 
Morland,  as  befitted  a  coming  statesman,  took  up  the  par- 
able of  the  march  westwards  of  the  yellow  races.  Colonel 


Where  Love  Is 

Pawley,  who  had  been  through  the  Taeping  rebellion,  was 
appealed  to  as  an  authority  on  the  development  of  the 
Chinaman.  He  almost  blushed,  wriggled  uncomfortably, 
and  as  soon  as  he  could  brought  the  conversation  to  the 
milder  topic  of  Chinese  teacups.  Successful,  he  sighed 
with  relief  and  told  Aline  the  story  of  the  willow  pattern. 
The  Royal  Academy  was  forgotten.  But  Norma  felt  guilty 
and  ashamed. 

Nor  was  she  set  more  at  ease  with  herself  by  a  careless 
remark  of  Morland's  as  Connie's  front  door  closed  behind 
them  an  hour  or  so  later. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  rather  Fubbed  it  into  poor  old  Jimmie 
about  the  Academy.  The  little  girl  looked  as  if  she  would 
like  to  fly  at  you.  She  is  a  spoiled  little  cat." 

"  I  have  noticed  she  does  n't  seem  to  like  you,"  answered 
Norma,  sourly. 

The  drive  as  far  as  Grosvenor  Place,  where  Norma  pro- 
posed to  pay  a  solitary  call,  was  not  as  pleasant  as  he  had 
anticipated.  He  parted  from  her  somewhat  resentful  of 
an  irritable  mood,  and  walked  back  towards  Sussex  Gardens 
through  the  Park,  reviling  the  capriciousness  of  woman. 


Chapter  VII 
A   MAD    PROPHET 

A  VIOLENT    man,    pallid    and     perspiring,    with 
crazy  dark  eyes  and  a  voice  hoarse  from  the  effort 
to  make  himself  heard  above  the  noise  of  a  hymn- 
singing  group  a  few  yards  to  the  right  and  of  a  brazen- 
throated   atheist   on    the   left,  was    delivering  his  soul  of 
its   message  to  mankind — a   confused,  disconnected,  oft- 
delivered    message,  so   inconsequent   as  to  suggest  that  it 
had  been  worn  into  shreds  and  tatters  of  catch-phrases  by 
process  of  over-delivery,  yet  uttered  with  the  passion  of  one 
inspired  with  a  new  and  amazing  gospel. 

"  I  am  speaking  to  you,  the  working-men,  the  proletariat, 
the  downtrodden  slaves  of  the  plutocracy,  the  creators  in 
darkness  of  the  wealth  that  the  idlers  enjoy  in  dazzling 
halls  of  brightness.  I  do  not  address  the  bourgeoisie  rot- 
ting in  sloth  and  apathy.  They  are  the  parasites  of  the 
rich.  They  sweat  the  workers  in  order  to  pander  to  the 
vices  of  the  rich.  They  despise  the  poor  and  grovel  before 
the  rich.  They  shrink  from  touching  the  poor  man's 
hand,  but  they  offer  their  bodies  slavishly  to  the  kick  of  the 
rich  man's  foot.  It  is  not  in  their  hands,  but  in  yours, 
brother  toilers  and  brother  sufferers,  that  lies  the  glorious 
work  of  the  great  social  revolution  whose  sun  just  rising  is 
tipping  the  mountain-tops  with  its  radiant  promise  of  an 
immortal  day.  It  is  against  them  and  not  with  them  that 

79 


Where  Love  Is 

you  have  to  struggle.  In  that  day  of  Armageddon  you 
will  find  all  tailordom,  all  grocerdom,  all  apothecarydom,  all 
attorneydom  arrayed  in  serried  ranks  around  the  accursed 
standards  of  plutocracy,  of  aristocracy,  of  bureaucracy. 
Beware  of  them.  Have  naught  to  do  with  them  on  peril 
of  your  salvation.  The  great  social  revolution  will  come 
not  from  above,  but  from  below,  from  the  depths.  De  pro- 
fundis  clamavi!  From  the  depths  have  I  cried,  O  Lord  !  " 
He  paused,  wiped  his  forehead,  cleared  his  throat,  and 
went  on  in  the  same  strain,  indifferent  to  ribald  interjections 
and  the  Sunday  apathy  of  his  casual  audience.  The  mere 
size  of  the  crowd  he  was  addressing  seemed  to  satisfy  him. 
The  number  was  above  the  average.  A  few  working-men 
in  the  inner  ring  drank  in  the  wild  utterances  with  pathetic 
thirst.  The  majority  listened,  half  amused,  half  attracted 
by  the  personality  of  the  speaker.  A  great  many  were 
captivated  by  the  sonority  of  the  words,  the  unfaltering  roll 
of  the  sentences,  the  vague  associations  and  impressions 
called  up  by  the  successive  images.  It  is  astonishing  what 
little  account  our  sociological  writers  take  of  the  elementary 
nature  of  the  minds  of  the  masses ;  how  easily  they  are 
amused ;  how  readily  they  are  imposed  upon ;  how  little 
they  are  capable  of  analytical  thought ;  at  the  same  time, 
how  intellectually  vain  they  are,  which  is  their  undoing. 
The  ineptitudes  of  the  music  hall  which  make  the  judicious 
grieve  —  the  satirical  presentment,  for  instance,  of  the 
modern  fop,  which  does  not  contain  one  single  salient 
characteristic  of  the  type,  which  is  the  blatant  conven- 
tion of  fifty  years  back — are  greeted  with  roars  of  unin- 
telligent laughter.  Books  are  written,  vulgar,  fallacious, 
with  a  specious  semblance  of  philosophical  profundity,  and 
sell  by  the  hundred  thousand.  The  masses  read  thenr 

80 


A  Mad  Prophet 

without  thought,  without  even  common  intelligence.  It  is 
too  great  an  intellectual  effort  to  grasp  the  ideas  so  disin- 
genuously presented  j  but  the  readers  can  understand  just 
enough  to  perceive  vaguely  that  they  are  in  touch  with  the 
deeper  questions  of  philosophy,  and  through  sheer  vanity 
delude  themselves  into  the  belief  that  they  are  vastly 
superior  people  in  being  able  to  find  pleasure  in  literature 
of  such  high  quality.  And  the  word  Mesopotamia  is  still 
blessed  in  their  ears.  Nothing  but  considerations  such  as 
these  can  explain  the  popularity  of  some  of  the  well-known 
Sunday  orators  in  Hyde  Park.  The  conductors  of  the 
various  properly  organised  mission  services  belong  naturally 
to  a  different  category.  It  is  the  socialist,  the  revivalist,  the 
atheist,  the  man  whose  blood  and  breath  seem  to  have  turned 
into  inexhaustible  verbiage,  that  present  the  problem. 

Some  such  reflections  forced  themselves  into  the  not 
uncharitable  mind  of  Jimmie  as  he  stood  on  the  outer 
fringe  of  the  pallid  man's  audience  and  listened  wonderingly 
to  the  inspired  nonsense.  He  had  left  a  delighted  Aline  to 
be  taken  by  Colonel  Pawley  to  the  Zoological  Gardens, 
and  had  strolled  down  from  Bryanston  Square  to  the  north 
side  of  the  Park.  To  lounge  pleasantly  on  a  Sunday  after- 
loon  from  group  to  group  had  always  been  a  favourite 
<§unday  pastime,  and  the  pallid  man  was  a  familiar  figure. 
Jimmie  had  often  thought  of  painting  him  as  the  central 
character  of  some  historical  picture  — an  expectorated  Jonah 
crying  to  Nineveh,  or  a  Flagellant  in  the  time  of  the  plague, 
with  foaming  mouth  and  bleeding  body,  calling  upon  the 
stricken  city  to  repent.  His  artist's  vision  could  see 
the  hairy,  haggard,  muscular  anatomy  beneath  the  man's 
rusty  black  garments.  He  could  make  a  capital  picture 
out  of  him. 

6  81 


Where  Love  Is 

The  man  paused  only  for  a  few  seconds,  and  again  took 
up  his  parable  —  the  battle  of  the  poor  and  the  rich.  The 
flow  of  words  poured  forth,  platitude  on  platitude,  in  turbid 
flood,  sound  and  fury  signifying  elusively,  sometimes  the 
collectivist  doctrine,  at  others  the  mere  sans-culotte  hatred 
of  the  aristocrat.  Jimmie,  speculating  on  the  impression 
made  by  the  oratory  on  the  minds  of  the  audience,  moved 
slightly  apart  from  the  crowd.  His  glance  wandering  away 
took  in  Morland  on  his  way  home,  walking  sedately  on  the 
path  towards  the  Marble  Arch.  He  ran  across  the  few 
yards  of  intervening  space  and  accosted  his  friend  gaily. 

"  Come  and  have  a  lesson  in  public  speaking,  and  at  the 
same  time  hear  the  other  side  of  the  political  question." 

"  What !  go  and  stand  among  that  rabble  ? "  cried 
Morland,  aghast. 

"  You  '11  have  to  stand  among  worse,  so  you  had  better 
get  used  to  it.  Besides,  the  man  is  a  delightful  fellow,  with 
a  face  like  Habakkuk,  capable  of  everything.  To  hear  him 
one  would  think  he  were  erupting  red-hot  lava,  whereas 
really  it  is  molten  omelette.  Come.  Your  purple  and 
fine  linen  will  be  a  red  rag  to  him." 

Laughing,  he  dragged  the  protesting  Morland  within 
earshot  of  the  speaker.  Morland  listened  superciliously  for 
a  few  moments. 

"  What  possible  amusement  can  you  find  in  this  drivel  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  It  is  so  devilish  pathetic,"  said  Jimmie,  "  so  human 
—  the  infinite  aspiration  and  the  futile  accomplishment. 
Listen." 

The  hymn  next  door  had  ceased,  the  atheist  was  hunting 
up  a  reference,  and  the  words  of  the  pallid  man's  peroration 
resounded  startlingly  in  the  temporary  silence: 

82 


A  Mad  Prophet 

"  In  that  day  when  the  sovereign  people's  will  is  law, 
when  the  weakest  and  the  strongest  shall  share  alike  in  the 
plenteous  bounty  of  Providence,  no  longer  shall  the  poor 
be  mangled  beneath  the  Juggernaut  car  of  wealth,  no 
longer  shall  your  daughters  be  bound  to  the  rich  man's 
chariot-wheels  and  whirled  shrieking  into  an  infamy  worse 
than  death,  no  longer  shall  the  poor  man's  soul  burn  with 
hell  fire  at  the  rich  man's  desecration  of  the  once  pure 
woman  that  he  loves,  no  more  rottenness,  foulness,  stench, 
iniquity,  but  the  earth  shall  rest  in  purity,  securely  folded 
in  the  angel  wings  of  peace  !  " 

He  waved  his  arms  in  a  gesture  of  dismissal,  turned  his 
back  on  the  crowd,  and  sat  down  exhausted  on  the  little 
wooden  bench  that  had  been  his  platform.  The  crowd 
gradually  moved  away,  some  laughing  idly,  others  reflect- 
ively chewing  the  cud  of  their  Barmecide  meal.  Morland 
pointed  a  gold-mounted  cane  at  the  late  speaker. 

"  Who  and  what  is  this  particular  brand  of  damned  fool  ?  " 

Jimmie  checked  with  a  glance  a  working-man  who  had 
issued  from  the  inner  ring  and  was  passing  by,  and  trans- 
lated Morland's  question  into  soberer  English. 

"Him?"  replied  the  working-man.  "That's  Daniel 
Stone,  sir.  Some  people  say  he  's  cracked,  but  he  always 
has  something  good  to  say  and  I  like  listening  to  him." 

"  What  does  he  do  when  he  is  n't  talking  ?  "  asked  Jimmie. 

"  Snatches  a  nap  and  a  mouthful  of  food,  I  should  say, 
sir,"  said  the  man,  with  a  laugh.  He  caught  Jimmie's 
responsive  smile,  touched  his  cap,  like  the  downtrodden 
slave  that  he  was,  and  went  on  his  way.  Jimmie  glanced 
round  for  Morland  and  saw  him  striding  off  rapidly.  He 
ran  after  him. 

"  What  is  the  hurry  ?  " 

83 


Where  Love  Is 

**  That  damned  man  —  " 

44  Which?  The  one  I  was  talking  to  ?  You  surely  did  n't 
object  —  ? " 

"  Of  course  not.     The  other  —  Daniel  Stone  —  ' 

"  Well,  what  of  him  ?  " 

"  He 's  a  dangerous  lunatic.  I  have  heard  of  him. 
Why  the  devil  did  you  want  me  to  make  an  exhibition  of 
myself  among  this  scum  ?  " 

Jimmie  stared.  Morland  broke  into  a  laugh  and  held 
out  his  hand.  "Never  mind.  The  beast  got  on  my 
nerves  with  his  chariot  wheels  and  his  desecration  of 
maidens  and  the  rest  of  it.  I'  must  be  off.  Good-bye." 

Jimmie  watched  him  disappear  through  the  gate  and 
turned  back  towards  the  groups.  The  pallid  man  was  still 
sitting  on  his  bench ;  a  few  children  hung  round  and 
scanned  him  idly.  Presently  he  rose  and  tucked  his  bench 
under  his  arm,  and  walked  slowly  away  from  the  scene  of 
his  oratory.  His  burning  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  Jimmie 
as  he  passed  by.  Jimmie  accosted  him. 

"  I  have  been  greatly  interested  in  your  address." 

"  I  saw  you  with  another  of  the  enemies  of  mankind. 
You  are  a  gentleman,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Jimmie,  smiling. 

"  Then  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  you,"  retorted  the 
man,  with  an  angry  gesture.  "  I  hate  you  and  all  your 
class." 

u  But  what  have  we  done  to  you  ?  " 

"  You  have  turned  my  blood  into  gall  and  my  soul  into 
consuming  fire." 

"Let  us  get  out  of  the  dust  and  sit  down  under  a 
tree  and  talk  it  over.  We  may  get  to  understand  each 
other." 

84 


A  Mad  Prophet 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  understand  you,"  said  the  man, 
coldly.  "  Good-day  to  you." 

"  Good-day,"  said  Jimmie,  with  a  smile.  u  I  am  sorry 
you  will  not  let  us  be  better  acquainted." 

He  turned  to  the  next  group,  who  were  listening  to  a 
disproof  of  God's  existence.  But  the  atheist  was  a  com- 
monplace thunderer  in  a  bowler  hat,  whose  utterances  fell 
tame  on  Jimmie's  ears  after  those  of  the  haggard-eyed 
prophet.  He  wandered  away  from  the  crowd,  striking 
diagonally  across  the  Park,  and  when  he  found  comparative 
shade  and  solitude,  cast  himself  on  the  grass  beneath  a 
tree.  The  personality  of  Daniel  Stone  interested  him. 
He  began  to  speculate  on  his  daily  life,  his  history.  Why 
should  he  have  vowed  undying  hatred  against  his  social 
superiors  ?  He  reminded  Jimmie  of  a  character  in  fiction, 
and  after  some  groping  the  association  was  recalled.  It 
was  the  monk  in  Dumas,  the  son  of  Miladi.  He  wove  an 
idle  romance  about  the  man.  Perhaps  Stone  was  the  dis- 
inherited of  noble  blood,  thirsting  for  a  senseless  vengeance. 
Gradually  the  drowsiness  of  deep  June  fell  upon  him.  He 
went  fast  asleep,  and  when  he  awoke  half  an  hour  after- 
wards and  began  to  walk  homewards,  he  thought  no  more 
of  Daniel  Stone. 

But  on  following  Sunday  afternoons  he  frequently  stood 
for  a  while  to  listen  to  the  man.  It  was  always  the  same 
tale  —  sound  and  fury,  signifying  nothing.  On  one  occasion 
he  caught  Jimmie's  eye,  and  denounced  him  vehemently  as 
an  enemy  of  society.  After  that,  Jimmie,  who  was  of  a 
peaceful  disposition,  ceased  attending  his  lectures.  He 
sympathised  with  Morland. 


Chapter  VIII 
HER   SERENE   HIGHNESS 

A'RETTY  quarrel  between  a  princess  and  a  duchess 
gave  rise  to  circumstances  in  which  the  destiny 
of  Jimmie  was  determined,  or  in  which,  to  speak 
with  modern  metaphor,  the  germ  of  his  destiny  found  the 
necessary  conditions  for  development.     Had  it  not  been  for 
this  quarrel,  Jimmie  would  not  have  stayed  at  the  Hardacres' 
house ;  and  had  he  not  been  their  guest,  the  events  here- 
after to  be  recorded  would  not  have  happened.     Such  con- 
catenation is  there  In  the  scheme  of  human  affairs. 

The  Duchess  of  Wiltshire  was  a  mighty  personage  in 
the  Hardacres'  part  of  the  county.  She  made  social  laws 
and  abrogated  them.  She  gave  and  she  took  away  the 
brevet  of  county  rank.  She  made  and  unmade  marriages. 
To  fall  under  the  ban  of  her  displeasure  was  to  be  dis- 
graced indeed.  She  held  a  double  sway  in  that  the  duke, 
her  husband,  had  delegated  to  her  his  authority  in  sublunary 
matters,  he  being  a  severe  mathematician  and  a  dry  astron- 
omer, who  looked  at  the  world  out  of  dull  eyes,  and 
regarded  it  with  indifference  as  a  mass  of  indistinguishable 
atoms  forming  a  nebula,  a  sort  of  Milky  Way,  concerning 
which  philosophic  minds  had  from  time  to  time  theorised. 
He  lived  icily  remote  from  society ;  the  duchess,  on  the 
contrary,  was  warmly  interested  in  its  doings.  In  the 
county  she  reigned  absolute ;  but  in  London,  recognising 
the  fact  that  there  were  other  duchesses  scattered  about 

86 


Her  Serene  Highness 

Mayfair  and  Belgravia,  she  was  high-minded  enough  to 
modify  her  claims  to  despotic  government.  She  felt  it, 
however,  her  duty  to  decree  that  her  last  reception  should 
mark  the  end  of  the  London  season. 

To  this  reception  the  Hardacres  were  always  invited. 
In  previous  years  they  had  mounted  the  great  staircase  of 
Wiltshire  House,  their  names  had  been  called  out,  the 
duchess  had  given  them  the  tips  of  her  fingers,  and  the 
duke,  tall,  white-haired,  ascetic,  had  let  them  touch  his 
hand  with  the  air  of  a  man  absently  watching  ants  crawl 
over  him  ;  they  had  passed  on,  mixed  with  the  crowd,  and 
seen  their  host  and  hostess  no  more.  But  this  year,  to 
Mrs.  Hardacre's  thrilling  delight,  the  duchess  gave  her 
quite  a  friendly  squeeze,  smiled  her  entire  approbation  of 
Mrs.  Hardacre's  existence,  and  detained  her  for  a  moment 
in  conversation. 

"  Don't  forget  to  come  and  have  a  little  talk  with  me 
later.  I  have  n't  seen  you  since  dear  Norma's  engagement." 

To  dear  Norma  she  was  equally  urbane,  called  her  a 
lucky  girl,  and  presented  her  as  a  bride-elect  to  the  duke, 
who  murmured  a  vague  formula  of  congratulation  which 
he  had  remembered  from  early  terrestrial  days. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  proud  I  am  of  you,  Norma  !  " 
said  Mrs.  Hardacre,  with  a  lump  in  her  throat,  as  they 
passed  on.  "  The  dear  duchess  !  I  wonder  if  I  am  suffi- 
ciently grateful  to  Providence." 

Norma,  although  in  her  heart  pleased  by  the  manifesta- 
tion of  ducal  favour,  could  not  let  the  opportunity  for  a 
taunt  pass  by. 

"  You  can  refer  to  it  in  your  prayers,  mother :  4  O  God, 
I  thank  Thee  for  shedding  Her  Grace  upon  me.'  Won't 
that  do,  father 3 ' 

87 


Where  Love  Is 

"  Eh,  what  ? "  asked  Mr.  Hardacre,  very  red  in  the  face, 
trailing  half  a  pace  behind  his  wife  and  daughter. 

Norma  repeated  her  form  of  Thanksgiving. 

"  Ha  !  ha !  Devilish  good  !  Tell  that  in  the  club," 
he  said  in  high  good-humour.  His  wife's  glance  suddenly 
withered  him. 

"  I  don't  approve  of  blasphemy,"  she  said. 

"  Towards  whom,  mother  dear  ?  "  asked  Norma,  suavely. 
"  The  Almighty  or  the  duchess  ?  " 

"  Both,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre,  with  a  snap. 

Mr.  Hardacre,  seeing  in  the  distance  a  man  to  whom  he 
thought  he  could  sell  a  horse^  escaped  from  the  domestic 
wrangle.  Mother  and  daughter  wandered  through  the 
crowd,  greeted  by  friends,  pausing  here  and  there  to  ex- 
change a  few  words,  until  they  came  to  the  door  of  the 
music-room,  filled  to  overflowing,  where  an  operatic  singer 
held  the  assembly  in  well-bred  silence.  At  the  door 
the  crush  was  ten  deep.  On  the  outskirts  conversation 
hummed  like  an  echo  of  the  noise  from  the  suite  of  rooms 
behind.  There  they  were  joined  by  Morland.  Mrs. 
Hardacre  told  him  of  the  duchess's  graciousness.  He 
grinned,  taking  the  information  with  the  air  of  a  man  to 
whom  the  favour  of  duchesses  bestowed  upon  his  betrothed 
is  a  tribute  to  his  own  excellence.  He  thought  she  would 
be  pleased,  he  said.  They  must  get  the  old  girl  to  come  to 
the  wedding.  Mrs.  Hardacre  was  pained,  but  she  granted 
young  love  indulgence  for  the  profanity.  If  they  only 
could,  she  assented,  the  success  of  the  ceremony  would  be 
assured.  Norma  turned  to  Morland  with  a  laugh. 

"  We  shall  be  married  with  a  vengeance,  if  it 's  sancti- 
fied by  the  duchess.  Do  you  think  a  parson  is  at  all 
necessary  ? " 

88 


Her  Serene  Highness 

He  joined  in  her  mirth.     She  drew  him  aside. 

"  Well,  what 's  the  news  ?  " 

He  accounted,  loverwise,  for  his  day.     At  last  he  said : 

"I  looked  in  upon  Jimmie  Padgate  this  morning.  I 
wanted  him  to  go  to  Christie's  and  buy  a  picture  or  two 
for  me  —  for  us,  I  ought  to  say,"  he  added,  with  a  little 
bow.  "  He  knows  more  about  'em  than  I  do.  He 's  a 
happy  beggar,  you  know,"  he  exclaimed,  after  a  short 
pause. 

"  What  makes  you  say  so  ?  " 

"  His  perfect  conviction  that  everything  is  for  the  best 
in  the  best  of  all  possible  worlds.  There  he  was  sitting  at 
lunch  over  the  black  scrag  end  of  a  boiled  mutton  bone  and 
a  rind  of  some  astonishing-looking  yellow  cheese  —  abso- 
lutely happy.  And  he  waved  his  hand  towards  it  as  if 
it  had  been  a  feast  of  Lucullus  and  asked  me  to  share 
it." 

"  Did  you  ?  "  asked  Norma. 

"  I  had  n't  time,"  said  Morland.  "  I  was  fearfully  busy 
to-day." 

Norma  did  not  reply.  She  looked  over  the  heads  of  the 
crowd  in  front  of  her  towards  the  music-room  whence 
came  the  full  notes  of  the  singer.  Then  she  said  to  him 
with  a  little  shiver : 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  a  rich  man,  Morland." 

"  So  am  I.      Otherwise  I  should  not  have  got  you." 

"  That 's  true  enough,"  she  said.  "  I  pretend  to  scoff 
at  all  this,  but  I  could  n't  live  without  it." 

"  It  has  its  points,"  he  assented,  turning  and  regarding 
the  brilliant  scene. 

Norma  turned  with  him.  She  was  glad  it  was  her 
birthright  and  her  marriage-right.  The  vast  state  ball- 

89 


Where  Love  Is 

room,  lit  as  with  full  daylight  by  rows  of  electric  lampt 
cunningly  hidden  behind  the  cornices  and  the  ground-glass 
panels  of  the  ceiling,  stately  with  its  Corinthian  pilaster? 
and  classic  frieze,  its  walls  adorned  with  priceless  pictures, 
notably  four  full-length  cavaliers  of  Vandyck,  smiling  down 
in  their  high-bred  way  upon  this  assembly  of  their  descend- 
ants, its  atmosphere  glittering  with  jewels,  radiant  with 
colour,  contained  all  the  magnificence,  all  the  aristocracy, 
all  the  ambitions,  all  the  ideals  that  she  had  been  trained  to 
worship,  to  set  before  her  as  the  lodestars  of  her  life's  des- 
tiny. Here  and  there  from  amid  the  indistinguishable  mass 
of  diamonds,  the  white  flesh  of  women's  shoulders,  the  black 
and  white  chequer  and  brilliant  uniforms  of  men,  flashed  out 
the  familiar  features  of  some  possessor  of  an  historic  name, 
some  woman  of  world-famed  beauty,  some  great  personage 
whose  name  was  on  the  lips  of  Europe.  There,  by  the 
wall,  lonely  for  the  moment,  stood  the  Chinese  Ambassa- 
dor, in  loose  maroon  silk,  and  horse-tail  plumed  cap,  his 
yellow,  wizened  face  rendered  more  sardonic  by  the  thin 
drooping  grey  moustache  and  thin  grey  imperial,  looking 
through  horn  spectacles,  expressionless,  impassive,  inhu- 
manly indifferent,  at  one  of  the  most  splendid  scenes 
a  despised  civilisation  could  set  before  him.  There,  in 
the  centre  of  a  group  of  envious  and  unembarrassed  ladies, 
an  Indian  potentate  blazed  in  diamonds  and  emeralds,  and 
rolled  his  dusky  eyes  on  charms  which  (most  oddly  to  his 
Oriental  conceptions)  belonged  to  other  men.  Here  a 
Turk's  red  fez,  a  Knight  of  the  Garter's  broad  blue  sash,  an 
ambassador's  sparkle  of  stars  and  orders;  and  there  the 
sweet,  fresh  rosebud  beauty  of  a  girl  caught  for  a  moment 
and  lost  in  the  moving  press.  And  there,  at  the  end  of 
the  vast,  living  hall,  a  dimly  seen  haggard  woman,  with  a 

90 


Her  Serene  Highness 

diamond  tiara  on  her  grey  hair,  surrounded  by  a  little  court, 
of  the  elect,  sat  Her  Serene  Highness,  the  Princess  of 
Herren-Rothbeck,  sister  to  a  reigning  monarch,  and  bosom 
friend,  despite  the  pretty  quarrel,  of  Her  Grace  the  Duchess 
of  Wiltshire. 

The  song  in  the  music-room  coming  to  an  end,  the  audi- 
ence for  the  most  part  rose  and  pressed  into  the  ballroom. 
The  Hardacres  and  Morland  were  driven  forward.  There 
was  a  long  period  of  desultory  conversation  with  acquaint- 
ances. Morland,  proud  in  the  possession  of  Norma's 
beauty,  remained  dutifully  attendant,  and  received  congrat- 
ulations with  almost  blushing  gratification.  Mrs.  Hardacrey 
preoccupied  by  anticipation  of  her  promised  talk  with  the 
duchess,  kept  casting  distracted  glances  at  the  door  whereby 
the  great  lady  would  enter.  The  appearance  from  a  group 
of  neighbouring  people  of  a  pleasant  young  fellow  with  a 
fair  moustache  and  very  thin  fair  hair,  who  greeted  her 
cordially,  brought  her  back  to  the  affairs  of  the  moment. 
This  was  the  Honourable  Charlie  Sandys,  a  distant  relative 
of  the  duchess,  and  her  Grand  Vizier,  Master  of  the 
Horse,  Groom  of  the  Chambers,  and  general  right-hand 
man.  He  was  two  and  twenty,  and  had  all  the  amazing 
wisdom  of  that  ingenuous  age.  Morland  shook  hands 
with  him,  but  being  tapped  on  the  arm  by  the  fan  of  a 
friendly  dowager,  left  him  to  converse  alone  with  Mrs. 
Hardacre  and  Norma.  The  youth  indicated  Morland's 
retiring  figure  by  a  jerk  of  the  head. 

"  Parliament  —  Cosford  division." 

"  We  hope  so,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre. 

"  Must  get  in.  Radical  for  her  constituency  would 
make  duchess  buy  her  coffin.  The  end  of  the  world  for 
her.  She  has  a  great  idea  of  King.  Going  to  take  him- 

91 


Where  Love  Is 

up  con  amore.     And   when   she    does  take  anybody  up  — 
well  —  " 

His  wave  of  the  hand  signified  the  tremendous  con- 
sequences. 

u  She  does  n't  merely  uproot  him"  said  Norma,  whose 
mind  now  and  then  worked  with  disconcerting  swiftness, 
"  but  she  takes  up  also  the  half-acre  where  he  is  planted." 

"  Just  so,"  replied  the  youth.  "Not  only  him,  but  his 
manservant  and  maidservant,  his  ox  and  his  ass  and  every- 
thing that  is  his.  Funny  woman,  you  know  —  one  of  the 
best,  of  course,  but  quaint.  Thinks  the  Member  for 
Cosford  is  ordained  by  Providence  to  represent  her  in 
Parliament." 

He  rattled  on,  highly  pleased  with  himself.  Norma  cast 
a  malicious  glance  at  her  mother,  who  perceptibly  winced. 
They  were  shining  in  the  duchess's  eyes  in  a  light  borrowed 
from  Morland.  They  were  taken  up  with  the  ox  and  the 
ass  and  the  remainder  of  Morland's  live-stock.  That  was 
the  reason,  then,  of  the  exceptional  marks  of  favour  be- 
stowed on  them  by  Her  Grace.  Mrs.  Hardacre  kept  the 
muscles  of  her  lips  at  the  smile,  but  her  steely  eyes  grew 
hard.  Norma,  on  the  contrary,  was  enjoying  herself. 
Charlie  Sandys  was  unconscious  of  the  little  comedy. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  the  princess  here  to-night,"  said 
Mrs.  Hardacre,  by  way  of  turning  the  conversation. 

The  youth  made  practically  the  same  reply  as  he  had 
made  at  least  a  dozen  times  to  the  same  remark  during  the 
course  of  the  evening.  He  was  an  injudicious  Groom  of  the 
Chambers,  being  vain  of  the  privileges  attached  to  his  post. 

"  There  has  been  an  awful  row,  you  know,"  he  said 
confidentially,  looking  round  to  see  that  he  was  not  over- 
heard. "They  have  scarcelv  made  it  up  yet." 

93 


Her  Serene  Highness 

*Do  tell  us  about  it,  Mr.  Sandys,"  said  Norma,  smil- 
ing upon  him. 

"  It 's  rather  a  joke.  Let  us  get  out  of  the  way  and 
I  '11  tell  you." 

He  piloted  them  through  the  crush  into  a  corridor,  and 
found  them  a  vacant  seat  by  some  palms. 

"  It's  all  about  pictures,'*  he  resumed.  "  Princess  wants 
to  have  her  portrait  painted  in  London.  Why  she  should  n't 
have  it  made  in  Germany  I  don't  know.  Anyhow  she 
comes  to  duchess  for  advice.  Duchess  has  taken  up 
Foljambe,  you  know  —  chap  that  has  painted  about  twenty 
miles  of  women  full  length  —  " 

"  We  saw  the  dear  duchess  at  his  Private  View,"  Mrs. 
Hardacre  interjected. 

"  Yes.  She  runs  him  for  all  she 's  worth.  Told  the 
princess  there  was  only  one  man  possible  for  her  portrait, 
and  that  was  Foljambe.  Princess  —  she  's  as  hard  as  nails, 
you  know  —  inquires  his  price,  knocks  him  down  half.  He 
agrees.  Everything  is  arranged.  Princess  to  sit  for  the 
portrait  when  she  stays  with  duchess  at  Chiltern  Towers  in 
September  —  " 

"  Oh,  we  are  going  to  have  the  princess  down  with  us  ?." 
Mrs.  Hardacre  grew  more  alert. 

"Yes.  Couldn't  find  time  to  sit  now  —  going  next 
week  to  Herren-Rothbeck  —  coming  back  in  September. 
Well,  it  was  all  settled  nicely  —  you  know  the  duchess's 
way.  On  Friday,  however,  she  takes  the  princess  to  see 
Foljambe's  show  —  for  the  first  time.  Just  like  her.  The 
princess  looks  round,  drops  her  lorgnon,  cries  out,  '  Lieber 
Gott  in  Himmel !  The  man  baints  as  if  he  was  bainting 
on  de  bavement ! '  and  utterly  refuses  to  have  anything  «•** 
do  with  him.  I  tell  you  there  were  ructions  !  " 

93 


Where  Love  Is 

He  embraced  a  knee  and  leant  back,  laughing  boyishly 
at  the  memory  of  the  battle  royal  between  the  high-born 
dames. 

"  Then  who  is  going  to  paint  the  portrait  ? "  asked 
Norma. 

"  That 's  what  I  am  supposed  to  find  out,"  replied  the 
youth.  "  But  I  can't  get  a  man  to  do  it  cheap  enough. 
One  can't  go  to  a  swell  R.  A.  and  ask  him  to  paint  a  por- 
trait of  a  princess  for  eighteen  pence." 

Norma  had  an  inspiration. 

"  Can  I  recommend  a  friend  of  mine  ?  " 

"  Would  he  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  so  —  if  I  asked  him." 

"  By  Jove,  who  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  youth,  pulling  down 
his  shirtcuff  for  the  purpose  of  making  memoranda. 

"  Mr.  James  Padgate,  10  Friary  Grove,  N.  W.  He  is 
Mr.  King's  most  intimate  friend." 

"  He  can  paint  all  right,  can't  he  ?  "  asked  the  youth. 

"  Beautifully,"  replied  Norma.  "  Friary,  not  Priory," 
she  corrected,  watching  him  make  the  note.  She  felt  the 
uncommon  satisfaction  of  having  performed  a  virtuous  act ; 
one  almost  of  penance  for  her  cruelty  to  him  on  Sunday 
week,  the  memory  of  which  had  teased  a  not  over-sensitive 
conscience.  The  scrag  end  of  boiled  mutton  and  the  rind 
of  cheese  had  also  affected  her,  stirred  her  pity  for  the  poor 
optimist,  although  in  a  revulsion  of  feeling  she  had  shivered 
at  his  lot.  She  had  closed  her  eyes  for  a  second,  and  some 
impish  wizardry  of  the  brain  had  conjured  up  a  picture  of 
herself  sitting  down  to  such  a  meal,  with  Jimmie  at  the 
other  side  of  the  table.  It  was  horrible.  She  had  turned 
to  fill  her  soul  with  the  solid  magnificence  about  her.  The 
pity  for  Jimmie  lingered,  however,  as  a  soothing  sensation, 

94 


Her  Serene  Highness 

and  she  welcomed  the  opportunity  of  playing  Lady  Boun- 
tiful. She  glanced  with  some  malice  from  the  annotated 

O 

cuff  to  her  mother's  face,  expecting  to  see  the  glitter  of 
disapproval  in  her  eyes.  To  her  astonishment,  Mrs.  Hard- 
acre  wore  an  expression  of  pleased  abstraction. 

Charlie  Sandys  pocketed  his  gold  pencil  and  retired.  He 
was  a  young  man  with  the  weight  of  many  affairs  on  his 
shoulders. 

u  That 's  a  capital  idea  of  yours,  Norma,"  said  Mrs. 
Hardacre. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  think  so,"   replied  Norma,  wonderingly. 

"  I  do.  It  was  most  happy.  We  '11  do  all  we  can  to 
help  Morland's  friend.  A  most  interesting  man.  And  if 
the  princess  gives  him  the  commission,  we  can  ask  him 
down  to  Heddon  to  stay  with  us  while  he  is  painting  the 
picture." 

Norma  was  puzzled.  Hitherto  her  mother  had  turned 
up  the  nose  of  distaste  against  Mr.  Padgate  and  all  his 
works.  Whence  this  sudden  change  ?  Not  from  sweet 
charitableness,  that  was  certain.  Hardly  from  desire  to 
please  Morland.  Various  solutions  ran  in  her  head.  Did 
an  overweening  ambition  prompt  her  mother  to  start  forth 
a  rival  to  the  duchess,  as  a  snapper  up  of  unconsidered 
painters  ?  Scarcely  possible.  Defiance  of  the  duchess  ? 
That  way  madness  could  only  lie ;  and  she  was  renowned 
for  the  subtle  caution  of  her  social  enterprises.  The  little 
problem  of  motive  interested  her  keenly.  At  last  the  light 
flashed  upon  her,  and  she  looked  at  Mrs.  Hardacre  almost 
with  admiration. 

"  What  a  wonderful  brain  you  have,  mother!  "  she  cried, 
half  mockingly,  half  in  earnest.  "  Fancy  your  having 
schemed  out  all  that  in  three  minutes." 

95 


Where  Love  Is 

Enjoyment  of  this  display  of  worldcraft  was  still  in  her 
eyes  when  she  came  across  Morland  a  little  later  j  but  she 
only  told  him  of  her  recommendation  of  Jimmie  to  paint 
the  princess's  portrait.  He  professed  delight.  How  had 
she  come  to  think  of  it  ? 

"  I  think  I  must  have  caught  the  disease  of  altruism 
from  Mr.  Padgate,"  she  said.  Then  following  up  an  idle 
train  of  thought : 

"l  I  suppose  you  often  put  work  —  portraits  and  things 
—  in  his  way  ?  " 

«*  I  can't  say  that  I  do." 

"Why  not  ?     You  know  hundreds  of  wealthy  people." 

u  Jimmie  is  not  a  man  to  be  patronised,"  said  Morland, 
sententiously,  "  and  really,  you  know,  I  can't  go  about 
touting  for  commissions  for  him." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Norma ;  "  he  is  far  too  insig- 
nificant a  person  to  trouble  one's  head  about." 

Morland  looked  pained. 

"  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  talk  in  that  way  about  Jim- 
m«-,"  he  said  reproachfully. 

The  little  scornful  curl  appeared  on  her  lip. 

"  Don't  you  ?  "  was  all  she  vouchsafed  to  say.  Un- 
reasonably irritated,  she  turned  aside  and  caught  a  passing 
attache  of  the  French  Embassy.  Morland,  dismissed, 
sauntered  off,  and  Norma  went  down  to  supper  with  the 
young  Frenchman,  who  entertained  her  for  half  an  hour 
with  a  technical  description  of  his  motor-car.  And  the 
trouble,  he  said,  to  keep  it  in  order.  It  needed  all  the 
delicate  cares  of  a  baby.  It  was  as  variable  as  a  woman. 

"  I  know,"  said  Norma,  stifling  a  yawn.  "  La  donna  e 
automobile" 

On  the  drive  home  in  the  hired  brougham,  whose  ot»- 

96 


Her  Serene  Highness 

vious  hircdom  caused  Norma  such  chafing  of  spirit,  Mrs. 
Hardacre  glowed  with  triumph,  and  while  her  husband 
dozed  dejectedly  opposite,  she  narrated  her  good  fortunes. 
She  had  had  her  little  chat  with  the  duchess.  They  had 
spoken  of  Mr.  Padgate,  Charlie  Sandys  having  run  to 
show  her  his  cuff  immediately.  The  duchess  looked 
favourably  on  the  proposal.  A  friend  of  Mr.  King's  was 
a  recommendation  in  itself.  But  the  princess,  she  assever- 
ated with  ducal  disregard  of  metaphor,  had  her  own  ideas 
of  art  and  would  not  buy  a  pig  in  a  poke.  They  must 
inspect  Mr.  Padgate's  work  before  there  was  any  question 
of  commission.  She  would  send  Charlie  Sandys  to  them 
to-morrow  to  talk  over  the  necessary  arrangements. 

"  I  told  her,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre,  "  that  Mr.  Padgate 
was  coming  to  pay  us  a  visit  in  any  case  in  September,  and 
suggested  that  he  could  drive  over  to  Chiltern  Towers 
every  morning  while  the  princess  was  honouring  him  with 
sittings,  and  paint  the  picture  there.  And  she  quite  jumped 
at  the  idea." 

*  No  doubt,"  said  Norma,  drily. 

But  her  dryness  had  no  withering  effect  on  her  mother's 
exuberance.  The  hard  woman  saw  the  goal  of  a  life's 
ambition  within  easy  reach,  and  for  the  exultant  moment 
softened  humanly.  She  chattered  like  a  school-girl. 

"  And  she  took  me  up  to  the  princess,"  she  said,  "  and 
presented  me  as  her  nearest  country  neighbour.  Was  n't 
that  nice  of  her  ?  And  the  princess  is  such  a  sweet 
woman." 

"  Dear,  dear !  "  said  Norma.  "  How  wicked  people  are  ! 
Every  one  says  she  is  the  most  vinegarish  old  cat  in 
Christendom." 


97 


Chapter   IX 
SENTIMENTAL  EDUCATION 

FAME  and  fortune  were  coming  at  last.  There  was 
no  doubt  of  it  in  Jimmie's  optimistic  mind.  For 
years  they  had  lagged  with  desperately  heavy  feet, 
but  now  they  were  in  sight,  slowly  approaching,  hand  in 
hand.  Jimmie  made  fantastic  preparations  to  welcome  them, 
and  wore  his  most  radiant  smile.  In  vain  did  Aline,  with 
her  practical  young  woman's  view  of  things,  point  to  the 
exiguity  of  the  price  fixed  by  Her  Serene  Highness.  If  that 
was  the  advent  of  fortuntf,  she  came  in  very  humble  guise, 
the  girl  insinuated.  Jimmie,  with  a  magnificent  sweep  of 
the  hand,  dismissed  such  contemptible  considerations  as 
present  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence.  He  was  going  to 
paint  the  portrait  of  the  sister  of  a  reigning  monarch.  Did 
not  Aline  see  that  this  might  lead  to  his  painting  the  por- 
trait of  the  reigning  monarch  himself?  Would  not  the 
counterfeit  presentment  of  one  crowned  head  attract  the 
attention  of  other  crowned  heads  to  the  successful  artist  ? 
Did  she  not  see  him  then  appointed  painter  in  ordinary  to 
all  the  emperors,  kings,  queens,  princes,  and  princesses  of 
Europe  ?  He  would  star  the  Continent,  make  a  royal 
progress  from  court  to  court,  disputed  for  by  potentates 
and  flattered  by  mighty  sovereigns.  He  grew  dithyrambic, 
a  condition  in  which  Aline  regarded  him  as  hopelessly  im- 
pervious to  reason.  His  portraits,  he  said,  would  adorn 
halls  of  state,  and  the  dreams  that  he  put  on  canvas, 

98 


Sentimental  Education 

hitherto  disregarded  by  a  blind  world,  would  find  places  of 
honour  in  the  Treasure  Houses  of  the  Nations.  It  would 
be  fame  for  him  and  fortune  for  Aline.  She  should  go 
attired  in  silk  and  shod  with  gold.  She  should  have  a 
stall  at  the  theatre  whenever  she  wanted,  and  a  carriage 
and  pair  to  fetch  her  home.  She  should  eat  vanilla  ices 
every  night.  And  then  she  might  marry  a  prince  and  live 
happy  ever  after. 

"  I  don't  want  to  marry  a  prince  or  any  one  else,  dear," 
Aline  said  once,  bringing  visions  down  into  the  light  of 
common  day.  "  I  just  want  to  go  on  staying  with  you." 

On  another  occasion  she  hinted  at  his  possible  espousal 
of  a  princess.  Again  Jimmie  dropped  from  the  empyrean, 
and  rubbed  his  head  ruefully.  There  was  only  one  prin- 
cess in  the  world  for  him,  an  enthroned  personage  of  radiant 
beauty  who  now  and  then  took  warm  pity  on  him  and 
admitted  him  to  her  friendship,  but  of  whom  it  were  dis- 
loyalty worse  than  all  folly  to  think  of.  And  yet  he  could 
not  help  his  heart  leaping  at  the  sight  of  her,  or  the  thrill 
quivering  through  him  when  he  saw  the  rare  softness  come 
into  her  eyes  which  he  and  none  other  had  evoked. 
What  he  had  to  give  her  he  could  give  to  no  other  woman, 
no  other  princess.  The  gift  was  unoffered  :  it  remained  in 
his  own  keeping,  but  consecrated  to  the  divinity.  He 
enshrined  it,  as  many  another  poor  chivalrous  wretch  has 
done,  in  an  exquisite  sanctuary,  making  it  the  symbol  of  a 
vague  sweet  religion  whose  secret  observances  brought  con- 
solation. But  of  all  this,  not  a  whisper,  not  a  sign  to  Aline. 
When  she  spoke  of  marriageable  princesses,  he  explained  the 
rueful  rubbing  of  his  head  by  reference  to  his  unattractive 
old  fogeydom,  and  his  unfitness  for  the  life  of  high  society. 

But  Aline  ought  to  have  her  prince.  The  coming 

99 


Where  Love  Is 

fortune  would  help  to  give  the  girl  what  was  due  to  her. 
For  himself  he  cared  nothing.  Cold  mutton  and  heel  of 
cheese  would  satisfy  him  to  the  end  of  his  days.  And 
fame  ?  In  quieter  moments  he  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
An  artist  has  a  message  to  deliver  to  his  generation,  and 
how  can  he  deliver  it  if  he  cannot  sell  his  pictures  ?  Let 
him  give  out  to  the  world  what  was  best  in  him,  and  he 
would  be  content.  Let  him  but  be  able  to  say,  "  I  have 
delivered  my  message,"  and  that  would  be  fame  enough. 

These  were  things  of  the  depths.  The  surface  of  his 
mood  was  exuberant,  almost  childish,  delight,  tempered  with 
whimsical  diffidence  in  his  power  of  comporting  himself 
correctly  towards  such  high  personages.  For  the  duchess, 
who  never  did  things  by  halves,  and  was  also  determined, 
as  she  had  said,  of  not  buying  a  pig  in  a  poke,  had  con- 
veyed to  him  the  intimation  that  Her  Serene  Highness 
the  Princess  of  Herren-Rothbeck  would  honour  him  with  a 
visit  to  his  studio  on  the  following  Thursday.  Jimmie 
and  Aline  held  long  counsel  together.  What  was  the 
proper  way  to  receive  a  Serene  Highness  ?  Jimmie  had  a 
vague  idea  of  an  awning  outside  the  door  and  a  strip  of  red 
baize  down  the  steps  and  across  the  pavement.  Tony 
Merewether,  who  was  called  into  consultation,  suggested, 
with  the  flippancy  of  youth,  a  brass  band  and  a  chorus  of 
maidens  to  strew  flowers  ;  whereat  Aline  turned  her  back 
upon  him,  and  Jimmie,  adding  pages  in  fancy  dress  to  hold 
up  the  serene  train  and  a  major-domo  in  a  court  suit  with 
a  wand,  encouraged  the  offender.  Aline  retired  from  so 
futile  a  discussion  and  went  on  sewing  in  dignified  silence. 
At  last  she  condescended  to  throw  out  a  suggestion. 

"If  I  were  you,  Jimmie,  I  should  get  the  princess  some 
portraits  to  look  at." 

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Sentimental  Education 

"  God  bless  my  soul,"  cried  Jimmie,  putting  down  his 
pipe,  "  I  never  thought  of  it.  Tony,  my  boy,  that  child 
with  the  innocence  of  the  dove  combines  the  wisdom  of 
the  original  serpent.  My  brain  reels  to  think  what  I 
should  be  without  her.  We  '11  telegraph  to  all  the  people 
that  have  sat  to  me  and  ask  them  to  send  in  their  portraits 
by  Thursday." 

He  crossed  the  studio  and  began  to  rummage  among  the 
litter  on  the  long  table.  Aline  asked  him  what  he  was 
looking  for. 

"  Telegram  forms.  Why  have  n't  we  got  any  ?  Tony, 
run  round  the  corner  to  the  post-office,  like  a  good  boy, 
and  get  some." 

But  Aline  checked  the  execution  of  this  maniacal  pro- 
ject. Three  portraits  would  be  quite  sufficient.  Jimmie 
would  have  to  pick  out  three  ladies  of  whom  he  could  best 
ask  such  a  favour,  and  write  them  polite  little  notes  and 
offer  to  send  a  van  in  the  orthodox  way  to  collect  the  pic- 
tures. Jimmie  bowed  before  such  sagacity,  and  wrote  the 
letters. 

In  the  course  of  the  week  the  portraits  arrived,  and  the 
studio  for  a  whole  day  became  the  undisputed  kingdom  of 
Aline  and  a  charwoman.  The  long  untidy  table,  so  dear  to 
Jimmie,  was  ruthlessly  cleared  and  set  in  dismaying  order. 
The  frame-maker  was  summoned,  and  the  unsold  pictures 
that  had  long  slumbered  sadly  on  the  ground  with  their 
faces  to  the  wall,  were  dusted  and  hung  in  advantageous 
lights.  The  square  of  Persian  carpet,  which  Jimmie  dur- 
ing an  unprotected  walk  through  Regent  Street  had  once 
bought  for  Aline's  bedroom,  was  brought  down  and  spread 
on  the  bare  boards  of  the  model-platform.  A  few  cushions 
were  scattered  about  the  rusty  drawing-room  suite,  and 

101 


Where  Love  Is 

various  odds  and  ends  of  artists'  properties,  bits  of  drapery, 
screens,  old  weapons,  were  brought  to  light  and  used  for 
purposes  of  decoration.  So  that  when  Jimmie,  who  had 
been  banished  the  house  for  the  day,  returned  in  the 
evening,  he  found  a  flushed  and  exhausted  damsel  await- 
ing him  in  a  transfigured  studio. 

"  My  dear  little  girl,"  he  said,  touched,  "  my  dear  little 
girl,  it 's  beautiful,  it 's  magical.  But  you  have  tired  your- 
self to  death.  Why  did  n't  you  let  me  do  all  this  ?  " 

"You  would  never  have  done  it  yourself,  Jimmie.  You 
know  you  would  n't,"  said  Aline.  "  You  would  have 
gone  on  talking  nonsense  about  red  baize  strips  and  flower- 
girls  and  pages — anything  to  make  those  about  you  laugh 
and  be  happy  —  and  you  would  never  have  thought  of 
showing  off  what  you  have  to  its  full  advantage." 

" 1  should  never  have  dreamed  of  robbing  your  poor 
little  room  of  its  carpet,  dear,"  he  said. 

They  went  upstairs  for  their  simple  evening  meal,  and 
returned  as  usual  to  the  beloved  studio.  Aline  filled 
Jimmie's  pipe. 

"  Do  you  think  I  dare  smoke  in  all  this  magnificence  ?  " 

She  laughed  and  struck  a  match. 

"  You  did  not  realise  what  a  lot  of  beautiful  pictures 
you  had,  did  you  ?  " 

"  They  make  a  brave  show,"  he  said,  looking  round. 
"  After  all,  I  'm  not  entirely  sorry  they  have  never  been 
sold.  I  should  not  like  to  part  with  them.  No,  I  did  not 
realise  how  many  there  were."  In  spite  of  his  cheeriness 
the  last  words  sounded  a  note  of  pathos  that  caught  the 
girl's  sensitive  ear. 

"Let  us  make  a  tour  of  inspection,"  she  said.  They 
wenr  *he  round,  pausing  long  before  each  picture.  He 

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Sentimental  Education 

said  little,  contrary  to  his  habit,  for  he  was  wont  to  descant 
on  his  work  with  playful  magniloquence.  He  saw  the 
years  unfold  behind  him  and  disclose  the  hopes  of  long  ago 
yet  unfulfilled.  What  endless  months  of  dreams  and 
thrills  and  passionate  toil  hung  profitless  upon  these  walls  ! 
Things  there  were,  wrought  from  the  depths  of  his  radiant 
faith  in  man,  plucked  from  the  heart  of  his  suffering,  con- 
secrated by  the  purest  visions  of  his  soul.  Had  Aline  been 
an  older  woman,  a  woman  who  had  loved  him,  lived  with 
him  in  a  wife's  intimate  communion,  instead  of  being  merely 
the  tender-hearted  child  of  his  adoption,  she  would  have 
wept  her  heart  out.  For  she,  alone  of  mortals,  would  have 
got  behind  such  imperfections  as  there  were,  and  would 
have  seen  nothing  but  a  crucifixion  of  the  quivering  things 
torn  out  of  the  life  of  the  beloved  man.  Only  vaguely, 
elusively  did  the  girl  feel  this.  But  even  her  half-compre- 
hending sympathy  was  of  great  comfort.  She  thought 
no  one  in  the  world  could  paint  like  Jimmie,  and  held  in 
angry  contempt  a  public  that  could  pass  him  by.  She  was 
hotly  his  advocate,  furious  at  his  rejection  by  hanging  com- 
mittees, miserably  disappointed  when  his  pictures  came 
back  from  exhibitions  unsold,  or  when  negotiations  with 
dealers  for  rights  of  reproduction  fell  through.  But  she 
was  too  young  to  pierce  to  the  heart  of  the  tragedy ;  and 
Jimmie  was  too  brave  and  laughter-loving  to  show  his  pain. 
Other  forces,  too,  had  been  at  work  in  her  development. 
Recently  her  mind  had  been  grappling  with  the  problem  of 
her  unpayable  debt  to  him.  This  silent  pilgrimage  round 
the  years  brought  her  thoughts  instinctively  to  herself  and 
the  monstrous  burden  she  had  been. 

"  I  have  been  wondering  lately,  Jimmie  dear,"  she  said 
at  last,  "  whether  you  would  not  have  been  more  successful 

103 


Where  Love  Is 

if  you  had  not  had  all  the  worry  and  expense  and  responsi- 
bility of  me." 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  he  cried  in  simple  amazement,  "  what- 
ever are  you  talking  of?  " 

She  repeated  her  apologia,  though  in  less  coherent 
terms.  She  felt  foolish,  as  a  girl  does  when  a  carefully 
prepared  expression  of  feeling  falls  upon  ears  which, 
though  inexpressibly  dear,  are  nevertheless  not  quite 
comprehending. 

"  You  have  had  to  do  pot-boilers,"  she  said,  falling  into 
miserable  bathos,  u  and  I  remember  the  five-shillings-a- 
dozen  landscapes  —  and  you  would  have  spent  all  that 
time  on  your  real  work  —  Oh,  don't  you  see  what  I  mean, 
Jimmie  ? " 

She  looked  up  at  him  pathetically  —  she  was  a  slight  slip 
of  a  girl,  and  he  was  above  the  medium  height.  He 
smiled  and  took  her  fresh  young  face  between  his  hands. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  "  you  're  the  only  successful  piece 
of  work  I  've  ever  turned  out  in  my  life.  Please  allow  me 
to  have  some  artistic  satisfaction  —  and  you  have  been 
worth  a  gold-mine  to  me." 

Thus  each  was  comforted.  Jimmie  settled  down  to  his 
pipe  and  a  book,  Aline  sat  over  her  sewing  —  the  articles 
to  which  she  devoted  her  perennial  industry  were  a  never 
solved  mystery  to  him  —  and  they  spent  a  pleasant  even- 
ing. The  inevitable  topic  naturally  arose  in  conversation. 
They  discussed  the  princess's  visit,  the  great  question  — 
how  was  she  to  be  received  ? 

"The  best  thing  you  can  do,"  said  the  practical  Aline, 
"is  to  go  to  Mrs.  Deering  to-morrow  and  get  properly 
coached." 

Jimmie  looked  at  her  in  admiration. 

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Sentimental  Education 

"You  are  worth  your  weight  in  diamonds,"  he  said. 
"  I  will." 

He  carried  out  his  project,  and  not  only  did  he  have  the 
pleasure  of  finding  Connie  at  home  undisturbed  by  strange 
tea-drinking  women,  but  Norma  Hardacre  came  in  soon 
after  his  arrival.  The  two  ladies  formed  themselves  into  a 
committee  of  advice,  and  sent  Jimmie  home  with  most 
definite  notions  regarding  the  correct  method  of  receiving 
Serene  Highnesses.  He  also  brought  Aline  the  news  that 
the  committee  would  honour  him  with  a  visit  the  following 
morning,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Hardacre,  who  had  been 
pleased  to  express  a  desire  to  see  his  pictures. 

The  appointed  hour  came,  and  with  it  the  ladies.  Mrs. 
Hardacre's  lips  smiled  sweetly  at  the  man  who  was  to  be 
taken  up  by  a  duchess  and  to  paint  the  portrait  of  a 
princess.  She  declared  herself  delighted  with  the  studio 
and  professed  admiration  for  the  pictures. 

"  Are  they  all  really  your  own,  Mr.  Padgate  ? "  she 
asked,  turning  towards  him,  her  tortoise-shell  lorgnon  held 
sceptre-wise. 

14 1  'm  afraid  so,"  answered  Jimmie,  with  a  smile.  "Some- 
times I  wish  they  were  not  so  much  my  own." 

"  But  I  should  feel  quite  proud  of  them,  if  I  were  you," 
said  the  lady,  desirous  to  please. 

Connie  broke  into  a  laugh,  and  explained  that  Jimmie 
had  implied  a  regret  that  they  had  found  no  purchasers. 
Mrs.  Hardacre  sniffed.  She  did  not  like  being  laughed  at, 
especially  as  she  had  gone  out  of  her  way  to  be  urbane. 
This  was  unfortunate  for  Jimmie ;  for  though  he  strove 
hard  to  remove  the  impression  that  he  had  consciously  dug 
a  pit  of  ridicule  for  her  entrapment,  Mrs.  Hardacre  listened 
to  his  remarks  with  suspicion  and  became  painfully  aware 

105 


Where  Love  Is 

of  the  shabbiness  of  his  coat.  Presently  she  regarded  one 
of  the  portraits — that  of  a  pretty,  fluffy-haired  woman. 

"  Dear  me,"  she  remarked  somewhat  frigidly,  u  that  is 
Mrs.  Marmaduke  Hewson." 

Jimmie,  in  the  simplicity  of  his  heart,  was  delighted. 

"  Yes.      A  most  charming  lady.     Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  don't  know  her,  but  I  know  of  her." 

Her  stress  on  the  preposition  signified  even  deeper  and 
more  far-reaching  things  than  the  nod  of  Lord  Burleigh 
in  the  play. 

"  What  do  you  know  of  her  ?  "  asked  Jimmie,  bluntly. 

Mrs.  Hardacre  smiled  frostily,  and  her  lean  shoulders 
moved  in  an  imperceptible  shrug. 

"  Those  matters  belong  to  the  realm  of  unhappy  gossip, 
Mr.  Padgate ;  but  I  'm  afraid  the  duchess  won't  find  her 
portrait  attractive." 

"  It  is  really  rather  a  good  portrait,"  said  Jimmie,  in 
puzzled  modesty. 

"  That  is  the  pity  of  it,"  replied  Mrs.  Hardacre,  sweetly. 

The  victim  smiled.  "  Surely  the  private  character  of  the 
subject  can  have  nothing  to  do  with  a  person's  judgment 
of  a  portrait  as  a  specimen  of  the  painter's  art.  And 
besides,  Mrs.  Hewson  is  as  dear  and  sweet  and  true  a  little 
woman  as  I  have  ever  met." 

u  You  are  not  the  first  of  your  sex  that  has  said  so." 

"And  I  most  sincerely  hope  I  shall  not  be  the  last," 
said  Jimmie,  with  a  little  flush  and  a  little  flash  in  his  eyes 
and  the  politest  of  little  bows.  Whereupon  Mrs.  Hard- 
acre  bit  her  lip  and  hated  him.  Norma,  seizing  the  oppor- 
tunity of  contributing  to  the  final  rout  of  her  mother, 
unwittingly  did  Jimmie  some  damage. 

u  We  women  ought  not  to  have  given  up  fancy  work," 

1 06 


Sentimental  Education 

she  said  in  her  hardest  and  most  artificial  tones.  u  As  we 
don't  embroider  with  our  fingers,  we  embroider  with  our 
tongues.  You  can  have  no  idea  what  an  elaborate  tissue 
of  lies  has  been  woven  about  that  poor  little  Mrs.  Hewson. 
I  agree  with  Mr.  Padgate.  I  am  sorry  you  believe  them, 
mother." 

Jimmie's  grateful  glance  smote  her  undeserving  heart. 
She  had  gained  credit  under  false  pretences  and  felt  hypo- 
critical—  an  unpleasant  feeling,  for  the  assumption  of 
unpossessed  virtues  was  not  one  of  her  faults.  She  suc- 
ceeded, however,  in  rendering  her  mother  furious.  In  a 
very  short  time  Mrs.  Hardacre  remembered  an  engagement 
and  went  away  in  a  hansom-cab,  refusing  the  seat  in 
Connie's  carriage,  which  was  put  at  her  disposal  on  the 
condition  of  her  waiting  a  few  moments  longer.  She  had 
thanked  Jimmie,  however,  for  the  pleasure  afforded  by  his 
delightful  pictures  with  such  politeness  when  he  saw  her 
into  the  cab,  that  he  did  not  for  a  moment  suspect  that  the 
lady  who  had  entered  the  house  with  expressions  of  friend- 
liness had  driven  away  in  a  rage,  with  feelings  towards  him 
ludicrously  hostile.  He  returned  to  the  studio  at  peace 
with  all  womankind ;  not  sorry  that  Mrs.  Hardacre  had  de- 
parted, but  only  because  courtesy  no  longer  demanded  his 
relegating  to  the  second  sphere  of  his  attention  the  divine 
personage  of  whom  he  felt  himself  to  be  the  slave.  No 
suspicion  of  Mrs.  Hardacre's  spiteful  motive  in  deprecating 
the  display  of  his  most  striking  piece  of  portraiture  ever 
entered  his  head.  He  ran  -down  the  studio  stairs  with  the 
eagerness  of  a  boy  released  from  the  flattering  but  embar- 
rassing society  of  his  elders  and  free  to  enjoy  the  compan- 
ionship of  his  congeners.  And  he  was  childishly  eager  to 
show  his  pictures  to  Norma,  to  hear  her  verdict,  to  secure 

107 


Where  Love  Is 

her  approval,  so  that  he  should  stand  in  her  eyes  as  a  per- 
son in  some  humble  way  worthy  of  the  regard  that  Mor- 
land  said  she  bestowed  on  him. 

He  found  his  visitors  not  looking  at  pictures  at  all,  but 
talking  to  Aline,  who  rushed  to  him  as  soon  as  he  entered 
the  studio. 

"  Oh,  Jimmie  — just  fancy  !  Mrs.  Deering  is  going  to 
take  me  to  Horlingham  on  Saturday,  and  is  coming  upstairs 
with  me  to  see  what  I  can  do  in  the  way  of  a  frock.  You 
don't  mind,  do  you?  " 

Jimmie  looked  down  into  the  happy  young  face  and 
laughed  a  happy  laugh. 

"  Mrs.  Deering  is  an  angel  from  the  most  exclusive  part 
of  heaven,"  he  said.  And  this  was  one  of  the  rare  occa- 
sions on  which  he  was  guilty  of  a  double  meaning.  Had 
not  the  angel  thus  contrived  an  unlooked-for  joy  —  a  few 
minutes'  undisturbed  communion  with  his  divinity  ? 

The  first  words  that  Norma  spoke  when  they  were  alone 
were  an  apology. 

"You  must  not  take  what  my  mother  said  in  ill  part. 
She  and  I  have  been  bred,  I  'm  afraid,  in  a  hard  school." 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  Mrs.  Hardacre  to  warn  me  of  the 
possibility  of  the  duchess  being  prejudiced  against  me  by 
the  exhibition  of  a  particular  portrait.  I  can't  conceive  the 
possibility  myself.  But  still  Mrs.  Hardacre's  intention  was 
kindly." 

Norma  turned  her  head  away  for  a  moment.  She  could 
not  trust  herself  to  speak,  for  a  stinging  sarcasm  with  just  a 
touch  of  the  hysterical  would  have  been  all  she  could 
utter,  and  she  had  not  the  heart  to  undeceive  him.  She 
shot  into  the  by-path  of  the  gossip  concerning  Mrs. 
Hewson. 

08 


Sentimental  Education 

"  Mother  believes  the  stories  about  her.  So  do  I  in  the 
loose  sort  of  way  in  which  our  faith  in  anything  is  com- 
posed—  even  in  our  fellow-creatures'  failings." 

u  You  defended  her,"  said  Jimmie. 

"  You  made  me  do  so." 

"  I  ?  " 

"  Either  you,  because  you  carry  about  with  you  an 
uncomfortable  Palace  of  Truth  sort  of  atmosphere,  or  else 
the  desire  to  rub  it  into  my  mother." 

"  Rub  what  in  ?  "     Jimmie  was  puzzled. 

Norma  laughed  somewhat  bitterly.  She  saw  that  he 
was  incapable  of  understanding  the  vulgar  pettiness  of  the 
scheme  of  motives  that  had  prompted  the  utterances  of  her 
mother  and  herself.  She  could  not  explain. 

"  I  think  you  are  born  out  of  your  century,"  she  said. 

It  was  lucky  for  Jimmie  that  he  was  unaware  of  the 
passionate  tribute  the  light  words  implied.  She  gave 
him  no  time  to  answer,  but  carried  him  straight  to  the 
pictures. 

"  I  had  no  idea  you  did  such  beautiful  work,"  she  said, 
looking  around  her. 

Jimmie  followed  her  glance,  and  the  melancholy  of  the 
artist  laid  its  touch  for  a  moment  upon  him.  He  sighed. 

"  They  might  have  been  beautiful  if  I  had  done  what  I 
started  out  to  do.  It  is  the  eternal  tragedy  of  the  clipped 
wings." 

She  was  oddly  responsive  to  a  vibration  in  his  voice,  and 
gave  out,  like  a  passive  violin,  the  harmonic  of  the  struck 
note. 

"  Better  to  have  wings  that  are  clipped  than  to  have  no 
wings  at  all." 

She  had  never  uttered  such  a  sentiment,  never  thought 

109 


Where  Love  Is 

such  a  thought  in  her  life  before.  Her  words  sounded 
unreal  in  her  own  ears,  and  yet  she  had  a  profound  sense 
of  their  sincerity. 

"There  is  no  apteryx  among  human  souls,"  said  Jimmie, 
released  from  the  melancholy  fingers.  They  argued  the 
point  in  a  lighter  vein,  discussed  individual  pictures. 
Charmed  by  her  sympathy,  he  spoke  freely  of  his  work, 
his  motives,  his  past  dreams.  Had  Norma  not  begun  to 
know  him,  she  might  have  wondered  at  the  lack  of  bitter- 
ness in  his  talk.  To  this  man  of  many  struggles  and 
many  crushing  disappointments  the  world  was  still  young 
and  sweet,  and  his  faith  in  the  ultimate  righteousness  of 
things  undimmed.  The  simple  courage  of  his  attitude 
towards  life  moved  her  admiration.  She  felt  somewhat 
humbled  in  the  presence  of  a  spirit  stronger,  clearer  than 
any  into  which  chance  had  hitherto  afforded  her  a  glimpse. 
And  as  he  talked  in  his  bright,  half-earnest,  half-humourous 
way,  it  crossed  her  mind  that  there  was  a  fair  world  of 
thought  and  emotion  in  which  she  and  her  like  had  not  set 
their  feet;  not  the  world  entirely  of  poetic  and  artistic 
imaginings,  but  one  where  inner  things  mattered  more  than 
outer  circumstance,  where  it  would  not  be  ridiculous  or 
affected  to  think  of  the  existence  of  a  soul  and  its  needs 
and  their  true  fulfilment. 

Hitherto  meeting  him  as  an  alien  in  her  world,  she  had 
regarded  him  with  a  touch  of  patronising  pity.  From  this 
she  was  now  free.  She  saw  him  for  the  first  time  in  harmony 
with  his  environment,  as  the  artist  sensitive  and  responsive, 
integral  with  the  beautiful  creations  that  hung  around  the 
walls,  and  still  homely  and  simple,  bearing  the  rubs  of 
time  as  bravely  and  frankly  as  the  old  drawing-room  suite 
that  furnished  the  unpretentious  studio.  Now  it  was  she 

no 


Sentimental  Education 

who    felt    herself   somewhat    disconcertingly   out    of    her 
element.     The  sensation,  however,  had  a  curious  charm. 

There  was  one  picture  that  had  attracted  her  from  the 
first.  She  stood  in  front  of  it  moved  by  its  pity  and 
tenderness. 

u  Tell  me  about  this  one,"  she  said  without  looking  at 
him.  She  divined  that  it  was  very  near  his  heart. 

In  the  foreground  amid  laughing  woodland  crouched  a 
faun  with  little  furry  ears  and  stumps  of  horns,  and  he 
was  staring  in  piteous  terror  at  a  vision  ;  and  the  vision 
was  that  of  a  shivering,  outcast  woman  on  a  wet  pavement 
in  a  sordid  street. 

"  It  is  the  joyous,  elemental  creature's  first  conception 
of  pain,"  said  Jimmie, after  a  few  moments'  silence.  "  You 
see,  life  has  been  to  him  only  the  sunshine,  and  the  earth 
drenched  with  colour  and  music  —  as  the  earth  ought  to  be 
—  and  now  he  sees  a  world  that  is  coming  grey  with  rain 
and  misty  with  tears,  and  he  has  the  horror  of  it  in  his 
eyes.  I  am  not  given  to  such  moralising  in  paint,"  he 
added  with  a  smile.  "  This  is  a  very  early  picture."  He 
looked  at  it  for  some  time  with  eyes  growing  wistful. 
"  Yes,"  he  sighed,  "  I  did  it  many  years  ago." 

"  It  has  a  history  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted ;  and  he  remembered  how  the  out- 
cast figure  in  the  rain  had  symbolised  that  little  funeral 
procession  in  Paris  and  how  terribly  grey  the  world  had 
been. 

Norma's  chastened  mood  had  not  awed  the  spirit  of 
mockery  within  her,  but  had  rendered  it  less  bitter,  and 
had  softened  her  voice.  She  waved  her  hand  towards  the 
crouching  faun. 

"  And  that  is  you  ?  "  she  asked. 
in 


Where  Love  Is 

Jimmie  caught  a  kind  raillery  in  her  glance,  and  laughed. 
Yes,  she  had  his  secret ;  was  the  only  person  who  had  ever 
guessed  him  beneath  the  travesty  of  horns  and  goat's  feet. 

"  I  like  you  for  laughing,"  she  said. 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  Other  painters  have  shown  me  their  pictures." 

"  Which  signifies  —  ?  " 

"That  this  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  pictures  I  have 
ever  seen,"  she  replied. 

"  But  why  are  you  glad  that  I  laughed  ?  "  asked  Jimmie, 
in  happy  puzzledom. 

"  I  have  told  you,  Mr.  Padgate,  all  that  I  am  going  to 
tell  you." 

"  I  accept  the  inscrutable,"  said  he. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  the  old  pagan  joy  of  life  ?  "  she 
asked  after  a  pause.  "  I  mean,  was  there,  is  there  such  a 
thing  ?  One  has  heard  of  it ;  in  fact  it  is  a  catch  phrase 
that  any  portentous  poseur  has  on  the  tip  of  hjs  tongue. 
When  one  comes  to  examine  it,  however,  it  generally 
means  champagne  and  oysters  and  an  unpresentable  lady, 
and  it  ends  with  liver  and  — and  all  sorts  of  things,  don't 
you  know.  But  you  are  not  a  poseur  —  I  think  you  are 
the  honestest  man  I  have  ever  met  —  and  yet  you  paint 
this  creature  as  if  you  utterly  believe  in  what  he  typifies." 

"  It  would  go  hard  with  me  if  I  did  n't,"  said  Jimmie. 
u  I  can't  talk  to  you  in  philosophic  terms  and  explain  all 
my  reasons,  because  I  have  read  very  little  philosophy. 
When  I  do  try,  my  head  gets  addled.  I  knew  a  chap  once 
who  used  to  devour  Berkeley  and  Kant  and  all  the  rest,  and 
used  to  write  about  them,  and  I  used  to  sit  at  his  feet  in  a 
kind  of  awed  wonder  at  the  tremendousness  of  his  brain. 
A  man  called  Smith.  He  was  colossally  clever,"  he  added 

112 


Sentimental  Education 

after  a  reflective  pause.  "  But  I  can  only  grope  after 
the  obvious.  Don't  you  think  the  beauty  of  the  world  is 
obvious  ?  " 

"  It  all  depends  upon  which  world,"  said  Norma. 

"Which  world?  Why,  God's  world.  It  is  sweet  to 
draw  the  breath  of  life.  I  love  living  j  don't  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  thought  of  it,"  she  answered.  "  I  should  n't 
like  to  die,  it  is  true,  but  I  don't  know  why.  Most  people 
seem  to  spend  two-thirds  of  their  existence  in  a  state  of 
boredom,  and  the  rest  in  sleep." 

"That  is  because  they  reject  my  poor  faun's  inherit- 
ance." 

"  I  have  been  asking  you  what  that  is." 

"  The  joy  and  laughter  of  life.     They  put  it  from  them." 

«  How  ? " 

"  They  draw  the  soul's  curtains  and  light  the  gas,  instead 
of  letting  God's  sunshine  stream  in." 

Norma  turned  away  from  the  picture  with  a  laugh. 

"  That  reminds  me  of  the  first  time  I  met  you.  You 
told  me  to  go  and  ventilate  my  soul.  It  gave  me  quite  a 
shock,  I  assure  you.  But  I  have  been  trying  to  follow 
your  precept  ever  since.  Don't  you  think  I  am  a  little 
bit  fresher?" 

For  the  moment  the  girl  still  lingering  in  her  five-and- 
twenty  hard  years  flashed  to  the  surface,  adorably  warming 
the  cold,  finely  sculptured  face,  and  bringing  rare  laughter 
into  her  eyes.  Jimmie  marvelled  at  the  infinite  sweetness 
of  her,  and  fed  his  poor  hungry  soul  thereon. 

"You  look  like  a  midsummer  morning,"  he  said 
unsteadily. 

The  tone  caught  her,  sobered  her;  but  the  colour  deep- 
ened on  her  cheek. 

8  113 


Where  Love  Is 

"  I  '11  treasure  that  as  a  pretty  compliment,"  she  said. 

There  was  a  little  space  of  silence — quite  a  perilous 
little  space,  with  various  unsaid  things  lurking  in  ambush. 
Norma  broke  it  first. 

"  Now  I  have  seen  everything,  have  n't  I  ?  No. 
There  are  some  on  the  floor  against  the  wall." 

Jimmie  explained  their  lack  of  value,  showed  her  two 
or  three.  They  were  mostly  the  wasters  from  his  picture 
factory,  he  said.  She  found  in  each  a  subject  for  admira- 
tion, and  Jimmie  glowed  with  pleasure  at  her  praise. 
While  he  was  replacing  them  she  moved  across  the 
studio. 

"  And  this  one  ? "  she  asked,  with  her  finger  on  the 
top  of  a  strainer.  He  looked  round  and  followed  swiftly 
to  her  side.  It  was  her  own  portrait  with  its  face  to  the 
wall. 

u  I  am  not  going  to  show  you  that,"  he  said  hurriedly. 

«  Why  not  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  crazy  thing." 

"  I  should  love  to  see  it." 

"  I  tell  you  it 's  a  crazy  thing,"  he  repeated.  "  A  mad 
artist's  dream." 

Norma  arched  her  eyebrows.  "  Aha !  That  is  very 
like  a  confession  !  " 

"  Of  what  ?  " 

"  The  ideal  woman  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said. 

"  I  thought  everything  was  so  positive  in  your  scheme  of 
life,"  she  remarked  teasingly.  "  Don't  you  know  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jimmie,  "  I  know." 

Again  the  vibration  that  Jimmie,  poorest  of  actors,  could 
not  keep  from  his  voice,  stirred  her.  She  felt  the  indelicacy 

114 


Sentimental  Education 

of  having  trodden  upon  sanctified  ground.  She  turned 
away  and  sat  down.  They  talked  of  other  matters,  some- 
what self-consciously.  Both  welcomed  the  entrance  of 
Connie  Deering  and  Aline.  The  former  filled  the  studio 
at  once  with  laughing  chatter.  She  hoped  Norma  had  not 
turned  Jimmie's  hair  white  with  the  dreadful  things  she 
must  have  said. 

"  I  don't  turn  a  hair,  as  I  'm  a  mere  worldling,  but  Jimmie 
is  an  unsophisticated  child  of  nature,  and  is  n't  accustomed 
to  you,  my  dear  Norma." 

She  went  on  to  explain  that  she  was  Jimmie's  natural 
protectress,  and  that  they  who  harmed  him  would  have  to 
reckon  with  her.  Jimmie  flew  gaily  to  Norma's  defence. 

"  And  this  child's  garments  ? "  he  asked,  indicating 
Aline,  whose  face  was  irradiated  by  a  vision  of  splendid 
attire. 

"  Don't  meddle  with  what  does  n't  concern  you,"  replied 
Connie,  while  she  and  the  girl  exchanged  the  glances  of 
conspirators. 

A  short  while  afterwards  the  two  visitors  drove  away. 
For  some  time  Norma  responded  somewhat  absently  to 
Mrs.  Deering's  light  talk. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  have  taken  to  Jimmie,"  said  the 
latter  at  last.  "  Is  n't  he  a  dear  ?  " 

"  I  remember  your  saying  that  before.  But  is  n't  it 
rather  an  odd  word  to  use  with  reference  to  him  ?  "  said 
Norma. 

"  Odd  —  ?     But  that 's  just  what  he  is." 

Norma  turned  in  some  resentment  on  her  friend. 

"Oh,  Connie,  how  dare  we  talk  patronisingly  of  a  man 
like  that  ?  He 's  worth  a  thousand  of  the  empty-souled, 
bridge-playing  people  we  live  among." 

"S 


Where  Love  Is 

41  But  that 's  just  why  I  call  him  a  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Deering,  uncomprehendingly. 

Norma  shrugged  her  shoulders,  fell  into  a  silence  which 
she  broke  by  asking  : 

"  Do  you  know  whom  he  is  in  love  with  ?  " 

"  Good  gracious,  Norma,"  cried  the  little  lady,  in  alarm. 
"  You  don't  say  that  Jimmie  is  in  love  ?  Oh,  it  would 
spoil  him.  He  can't  be  !  " 

"There  was  one  picture — of  a  woman  —  which  he 
would  not  let  me  see,"  said  Norma. 

«  Well  ?  " 

Norma  paused  for  some  seconds  before  she  replied: 

"  He  called  it  l  a  mad  artist's  dream.'  I  have  been 
wondering  whether  it  was  not  better  than  a  sane  politician's 
reality." 

"  What  is  a  sane  politician's  reality,  dear  ? "  Connie 
asked,  mystified. 

"  I  am,"  said  Norma. 

Then,  woman-like,  she  turned  the  conversation  to  the 
turpitudes  of  her  dressmaker. 


116 


Chapter    X 
TWO   IDYLLS 

JIMMIE  was  trudging  along  the  undulating  highroad 
that  leads  from  Dieppe  to  the  little  village  of  Berneval, 
very  hot,  very  dusty,  very  thirsty,  and  very  contented. 
He  carried  a  stick  and  a  little  black  bag.  His  content  pro- 
ceeded from  a  variety  of  causes.  In  the  first  place  it  was 
a  glorious  August  day,  drenched  with  sunshine  and  with 
deep  blue  ether ;  and  the  smiling  plain  of  Normandy  rolled 
before  him,  a  land  of  ripening  orchards  and  lazy  pastures. 
He  had  been  longing  for  the  simple  beauty  of  sun  and  sky 
and  green  trees,  and  for  the  homely  sights  and  sounds  of 
country  things,  and  now  he  had  his  fill.  Secondly,  Aline 
was  having  a  much  needed  holiday.  She  had  been  growing 
a  little  pale  and  languid,  he  thought,  in  London,  after  a 
year's  confined  administering  to  his  selfish  wants.  She  was 
enjoying  herself,  too,  and  the  few  days  she  had  already 
spent  in  the  sea  air  had  brought  the  blood  to  her  cheeks 
again.  Thirdly,  he  was  free  for  the  moment  from  every- 
day cares.  A  dealer  had  fallen  from  heaven  into  his  studio 
and  paid  money  down  for  the  copyright  of  two  of  his  worst 
pictures.  Fourthly,  he  had  definitely  received  the  com- 
mission for  the  portrait  of  the  Princess  of  Herren-Rothbeck. 
Her  Serene  Highness  and  her  tutelary  duchess  had  paid 
their  visit,  expressed  themselves  delighted  with  his  work 
(the  duchess  especially  commending  the  portrait  of  the 

117 


Where  Love  Is 

hapless  Mrs.  Marmaduke  Hewson),  and  had  driven  away 
in  a  most  satisfactory  condition  of  serenity  and  graciousness. 
Jimmie  was  happy.  What  could  man  want  more  ?  In 
addition  to  all  these  blessings,  Norma  had  written  to  him 
from  Lord  Monzie's  place  in  Scotland  a  letter  a  propos  of 
nothing,  merely  expressive  of  good-will  and  friendliness  j 
and  he  had  received  it  that  morning.  He  had  never  seen 
her  handwriting  before.  Bold,  incisive,  distinguished,  it 
seemed  to  complement  his  conception  of  the  radiant  lady, 
and  in  a  foolish  way  he  tried  to  harmonise  the  ink-marks 
with  the  curves  of  her  proud  lips,  the  setting  of  her  eyes, 
and  the  poise  of  her  queenly' head.  The  dreariness  of  a 
rainy  afternoon  with  all  the  men  and  half  the  women  away 
on  the  grouse-moor  had  been,  she  said,  her  excuse  for 
writing.  She  sketched  various  members  of  the  house- 
party  with  light,  satiric  touches  j  notably  one  Theodore 
Weever,  an  American,  whose  sister  had  married  an  impe- 
cunious and  embarrassing  cousin  of  the  Duchess  of  Wilt- 
shire. He  was  building  himself  a  palace  in  Fifth  Avenue, 
wrote  Norma,  and  had  been  buying  pictures  in  Europe  to 
decorate  it  with ;  now  he  was  anxious  to  purchase  a  really 
decorative  wife.  Morland  was  expected  in  a  few  days, 
and  she  would  be  glad  when  he  appeared  upon  the  scene. 
She  did  not  say  why ;  but  Jimmie  naturally  understood 
that  her  heart  was  yearning  for  the  presence  of  the  man 
she  loved.  "I  have  very  little  to  say  that  can  interest 
you,"  she  concluded,  "  but  you  can  say  many  things  to 
interest  me :  this  letter  is  purely  selfish,  a  mere  minnow, 
after  all,  that  I  use  as  bait."  So  Jimmie  walked  along  the 
dusty  road  thinking  out  an  answer  that  could  bring  com- 
fort to  the  Hero  pining  for  her  Leander ;  thinking  also  of 
Aline,  and  revelling  in  the  sunshine. 

118 


Two  Idylls 

He  delighted,  like  a  child,  in  all  he  saw.  He  stopped 
before  the  red,  gold,  and  green  paradise  of  an  orchard  and 
feasted  upon  its  colour.  He  lingered  in  talk  with  a  tiny 
girl  driving  a  great  brown  cow ;  asked  her  its  age,  how 
many  calves  it  had  had,  its  name,  and  whether  she  were  not 
afraid  it  would  mistake  her  for  a  blade  of  grass  and  bite 
her.  The  little  girl  scoffed  at  the  possibility.  She  could 
drive  three  cows,  and,  if  it  came  to  that,  a  bull.  "  fa  me 
connait,  les  betes"  she  said.  Whereupon  he  put  a  couple 
of  sous  in  her  hand  and  went  on  his  way.  Presently  he 
sat  down  on  the  rough  wooden  bench  in  front  of  a  wayside 
cafe  and  drank  cider  from  an  earthenware  bowl,  and  played 
with  a  mongrel  puppy  belonging  to  the  establishment. 
When  the  latter  had  darted  off  to  bark  amid  the  cloud  of 
dust  and  petroleum  fumes  left  by  a  passing  motor-car, 
Jimmie,  sipping  his  second  bowl  of  sour  cider  in  great  con- 
tent, re-read  the  precious  letter,  filled  his  pipe,  and  reflected 
peacefully  on  the  great  harmony  of  things.  The  hopeless- 
ness of  his  own  love  for  Norma  struck  no  discord.  The 
Stephen  so  closely  connected  with  the  life  of  Saint  Catherine 
of  Siena  did  not  love  with  less  hope  or  more  devotion. 

He  paid  the  few  coppers  for  his  reckoning,  took  up  his 
stick  and  little  black  bag,  and  trudged  on  refreshed,  and  as 
he  neared  Berneval  the  expectation  of  Aline's  welcome 
gladdened  him.  He  had  rented  for  the  month  a  cottage 
with  a  straggling  piece  of  ground  behind,  from  an  artist 
friend  whose  possession  it  was.  The  friend  had  fixed 
the  figure  absurdly  low;  the  modest  living  under  Aline's 
experienced  management  was  cheap,  and  the  bonne  a  tout 
faire  cooked  divinely  for  a  few  halfpence  a  day.  By  a 
curious  coincidence  Mr.  Anthony  Merewether  had  also 
pitched  upon  Berneval  as  a  summer  resting-place.  He 


Where  Love  Is 

had  come  on  business,  he  gave  out,  and  every  morning 
saw  him  issue  from  the  hotel  by  the  beach,  armed  with 
easel  and  camp-stool,  and  the  rest  of  the  landscape-painter's 
paraphernalia,  and  every  evening  saw  him  smoking  cigarettes 
on  Jimmie's  veranda.  Whether  the  hours  of  sunshine  saw 
him  consistently  hard  at  work,  Jimmie  was  inclined  to 
doubt.  He  certainly  bathed  a  great  deal  and  ran  about 
with  Aline  a  great  deal,  and  Jimmie  read  the  pair  moral 
lessons  on  the  evil  effects  of  idleness.  But  Tony  was  a 
fresh-minded  boy ;  his  ingenuous  conversation  provided 
Jimmie  with  much  entertainment,  and  his  presence  on  their 
holiday  gave  him  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  Aline  had 
some  one  of  her  own  age  to  play  with. 

The  ramshackle  vehicle,  half  diligence,  half  omnibus, 
that  plies  between  Berneval  and  Dieppe,  passed  him  with 
great  cracking  of  whip  and  straining  of  rusty  harness  and 
loud  hue's  from  the  driver,  just  as  he  entered  the  village. 
It  was  late  afternoon,  and  the  trim  white  and  green  of  the 
place  was  bathed  in  mellow  sunshine.  The  short  cut  home 
lay  up  a  lane  and  through  the  churchyard,  a  cluster  of  grey 
slabs  around  a  little  grey  church ;  and  many  of  the  slabs 
bore  the  story  of  the  pitiless  sea  —  how  Jean-fyjarie  Dulac, 
many  years  ago,  was  drowned  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  and 
how  Jacques  Lemerre  perished  in  a  storm ;  for  it  has  been 
from  time  immemorial  a  tiny  village  cf  fisher-folk  and  every 
family  has  given  of  its  own  to  the  waves.  The  pathos  of 
the  simple  legends  on  the  stones  always  touched  him  as  he 
walked  by;  and  now  he  paused  to  decipher  some  moss- 
grown  letters  of  fifty  years  ago.  He  stooped,  made  out  the 
same  sad  tale,  moralised  a  little  thereon,  and  rose  with 
a  sigh  of  relief  to  greet  the  sunshine  and  the  fair  earth. 
But  the  sight  that  suddenly  met  his  eyes  banished  dead 

120 


Two  Idylls 

fishermen  and  hungry  sea  and  sunny  tree-tops  from  his 
mind.  It  was  a  boy  and  a  girl  very  close  together,  his  arm 
about  her  waist,  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  walking  by 
the  little  church.  Their  backs  were  towards  him.  ne 
stared  open-mouthed. 

"  God  bless  my  soul !  "  said  he,  in  amazement. 

Then  he  dropped  his  stick,  which  clattered  upon  a  grave- 
stone. 

The  foolish  pair  started  at  the  sound,  assumed  a  correct 
attitude  with  remarkable  swiftness,  and  turning,  recognised 
Jimmie.  Tony  Merewether,  who  was  a  fair  youth,  grew 
very  red  and  looked  sheepish ;  Aline  awaited  events 
demurely,  with  downcast  eyes.  Jimmie  pushed  his  old 
Homburg  hat  to  the  back  of  his  head,  and  in  two  or  three 
strides  confronted  them.  He  tried  to  look  fiercely  at 
Tony.  The  young  man  drew  himself  up. 

"  I  have  asked  Aline  to  marry  me,  sir,"  he  said  frankly. 
"I  was  going  to  speak  to  you  about  it." 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  said  Jimmie,  helplessly. 

"We  can't  marry  just  yet,"  said  Tony,  "but  I  hope 
you  will  give  your  consent." 

Jimmie  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  let  me  know  of  this  state  of  things 
before  ? " 

"  I  have  n't  done  anything  underhand.  I  thought  you 
guessed,"  said  Tony. 

"  And  you,  Aline  ?  " 

She  stole  a  shy  glance  at  him. 

"  I  was  n't  quite  sure  of  it  until  just  now,"  she  replied. 
And  then  she  blushed  furiously  and  ran  to  Jimmie's  arms. 
u  Oh,  Jimmie  dear,  don't  be  cross !  " 

"  Cross,  my  child  ?  "  he  said. 

121 


Where  Love  Is 

The  world  of  tender  reproach  in  his  tone  couched  her. 
The  ready  tears  started. 

"  You  are  an  angel,  Jimmie." 

The  hand  that  was  on  her  shoulder  patted  it  comfort- 
ingly. 

u  No,  dear,  I  am  a  blind  elderly  idiot.  O  Lord,  Tony, 
I  hope  you  feel  infernally  ashamed  of  yourself." 

u  As  Tony  says,  we  sha'n't  be  able  to  get  married  for 
a  long,  long  time,"  said  Aline,  by  way  of  consolation, 
"so  for  years  and  years  we'll  go  on  in  just  the  same 
way." 

UI  only  ask  you  to  consent  to  our  engagement,  sir," 
said  Tony,  diplomatically.  "  I  am  quite  willing  to  wait  for 
Aline  as  long  as  you  like." 

The  abandonment  of  Jimmie  by  Aline  had  been  the 
subject  of  the  last  half-hour's  discussion  between  the  lovers. 
The  thought  of  Jimmie  alone  and  helpless  appalled  her. 
She  was  a  horrid  selfish  wretch,  she  had  informed  Tony, 
for  listening  to  a  word  he  said.  How  could  Jimmie  live 
by  himself?  She  shuddered  at  the  dismal  chaos  of  the 
studio,  the  gaping  holes  in  his  socks,  the  impossible  meals, 
the  fleecing  of  him  by  every  plausible  beggar  in  frock  coat 
or  rags,  the  empty  treasury.  He  needed  more  care  than 
a  baby.  She  would  marry  Tony,  some  day,  because  her 
head  was  full  of  him,  and  because  she  had  let  him  kiss 
her  and  had  found  a  peculiar,  dreamy  happiness  during  the 
process,  and  because  she  could  not  conceive  the  possibility 
of  marrying  any  one  else.  But  she  was  more  than  content 
to  leave  the  date  indefinite.  Perhaps,  in  the  stretch  of 
aeons  between  now  and  then,  something  would  happen  to 
release  her  from  her  responsibilities.  She  had  made  the 
position  luminously  clear  to  Mr.  Merewether  before  she 

122 


Two  Idylls 

had  consented  to  be  foolish  and  walk  about  with  her  head 
on  his  shoulder. 

"No,  until  Jimmie gets  properly  suited,"  she  said,  quickly 
following  Tony's  last  remark. 

"  My  dear  foolish  children,"  said  Jimmie,  "  you  had 
better  get  married  as  soon  as  ever  you  can  keep  the  wolf 
from  the  door.  What  on  earth  is  the  good  of  waiting  till 
you  are  old  ?  Get  all  the  happiness  you  can  out  of  your 
youth,  and  God  bless  you." 

The  young  man  bowed  his  head. 

"  I  will  give  my  life  to  her." 

Jimmie  touched  him  on  the  arm,  waved  his  hand  around, 
indicating  the  little  grey  church,  the  quiet  graves. 

u  This  is  not  the  place  where  a  man  should  say  such 
a  thing  lightly,"  he  said. 

" 1  am  not  the  man  to  say  such  a  thing  lightly  in  any 
place,"  retorted  the  youth,  with  spirit. 

Jimmie  nodded  approvingly.  "  My  dear,"  he  said  to 
Aline,  "that  is  the  way  I  like  to  hear  a  man  talk." 

He  turned  and  collected  the  fallen  stick  and  the  black 
bag  which  he  had  deposited  by  the  side  of  the  slab.  He 
had  gone  into  Dieppe  that  morning  partly  for  the  sake 
of  the  walk  and  partly  to  purchase  some  odds  and  ends 
for  the  house.  Aline,  not  trusting  to  his  memory,  had  given 
him  a  list  of  items  with  directions  attached  as  to  the  places 
where  he  was  to  procure  them,  so  that  when  he  came  to 
"  pepper,"  he  should  seek  it  at  a  grocery  and  not  at  a 
milliner's  establishment.  Now,  without  saying  a  word, 
he  opened  the  bag  and  rummaged  among  its  queer  contents, 
which  Aline  regarded  with  some  twinges  of  a  tender  con- 
science. She  ought  to  have  gone  into  Dieppe  herself,  and 
made  her  purchases  like  a  notable  housewife,  instead  of. 

123 


Where  Love  Is 

sending  Jimmie  and  passing  the  day  in  selfish  lovemaking. 
The  twinge  grew  sharper  when  Jimmie  at  last  fished  out 
a  little  cardboard  box  and  put  it  in  her  hands. 

"  At  any  rate,  I  can  give  you  an  engagement  present 
before  Tony,"  he  said  with  a  laugh. 

It  was  only  an  old  filigree  silver  waist-buckle  he  had 
picked  up  at  a  curio  shop  in  the  town,  but  it  was  a  gem 
of  infinite  value  to  the  girl,  for  she  knew  that  Jimmie's 
love  went  with  it.  She  showed  it  to  Tony  Merewether, 
who  admired  the  workmanship. 

"  If  you  can  give  me  anything  I  shall  prize  more,  you 
will  be  a  lucky  fellow,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

The  three  strolled  quietly  towards  the  cottage,  and  it  was 
Jimmie's  arm  that  Aline  clung  to,  and  Mr.  Merewether 
who  carried  the  black  bag.  That  night,  after  she  had  dis- 
missed the  young  man,  she  sat  a  long  time  with  Jimmie  on 
the  veranda,  telling  him  in  one  shy  breath  of  the  wonder 
that  had  suddenly  come  into  her  life,  and  in  the  next  that 
she  would  never  leave  him  until  he  was  rich  and  famous  and 
able  to  live  by  himself.  Jimmie,  unguileful  in  the  nature  of 
men  and  maidens  and  the  ways  of  this  wicked  world,  kept 
on  repeating  like  a  refrain  his  formula  of  astonishment : 

"  It  never  entered  my  head,  dear,  that  you  two  children 
would  fall  in  love  with  one  another." 

"  You  don't  think  I  ought  n't  to  have  done  it,  do  you, 
Jimmie  ?  "  she  said  at  last. 

He  broke  into  his  happy  laugh,  and  kissed  her.  "  If 
you  want  to  please  me,  you  '11  go  on  doing  it,"  he  said. 

It  was  some  time  after  he  had  gone  to  bed  that  sleep 
came.  Yes;  Nature,  the  dear  mother,  had  spoken,  and 
who  could  gainsay  her?  A  clean,  bright,  healthy  English 
lad,  and  a  clean,  bright,  healthy  English  girl  had  read  truth 

124 


Two  Idylls 

in  each  other's  eyes.  It  was  one  of  the  sweet  things  in 
the  world,  for  which  we  who  live  in  the  world  should 
be  thankful.  The  dimly  seen  white  curtains  of  his  bed 
became  gossamer  veils  that  enveloped  him  with  beauty. 
Now,  on  either  side,  his  inner  life  was  touched  by  the 
maffic  of  romance :  the  fair  dream  of  these  two  children, 

O  ' 

and  the  love  of  the  other  betrothed  pair.  It  was  on  happy 
eyelids  that  sleep  settled  at  last.  And  Aline,  too,  lay  awake, 
her  young  cheeks  burning  at  the  delicious  yet  affrighting 
memory  of  a  kiss  in  the  little  churchyard,  and  her  heart 
swelling  at  the  thought  of  the  infinite  goodness  of  Jimmie. 

Meanwhile,  unconscious  of  these  idyllic  happenings  and 
romantic  speculations,  Norma  was  enjoying  herself  in  her 
worldly  way  at  Lord  Monzie's  place  in  Scotland.  Lord 
Monzie,  a  dissipated  young  man  who  had  lately  come  into 
the  title,  had  married  a  well-to-do  young  woman  in  very 
smart  society.  Consequently  there  was  no  lack  of  modern 
entertainment  in  the  house.  So  modern  was  everything 
that  the  host  had  got  down  Mr.  Joseph  Ascherberg,  the 
financier,  to  hold  a  roulette  bank  every  night  against  all 
comers;  but  he  took  care  that  he  himself,  or  his  own 
confidential  man,  turned  the  wheel  and  spun  the  marble. 
Most  of  the  people  had  unimaginative  nicknames,  the  ex- 
tremes of  the  Submerged  Tenth  and  the  Upper  Ten  thus 
curiously  meeting.  Lord  Monzie  was  called  "  Muggins;  " 
his  bosom  friend,  and,  as  some  whispered,  his  ame  damnee, 
Sir  Calthrop  Boyle,  was  alluded  to  as  "  The  Boiler ; "  and 
Ascherberg  responded  to  the  appellation  of  "  Freddy." 
There  were  also  modern  conveniences  for  the  gratification 
of  caprices  or  predilections  that  need  not  be  insisted  upon. 
In  fact  the  atmosphere  was  surcharged  with  modernity ;  so 

125 


Where  Love  Is 

much  so  that  Norma,  who  would  have  walked  about  the 
Suburra  of  Imperial  Rome  with  cynical  indifference,  gasped 
a  little  when  she  entered  it.  One  or  two  things  actually 
shocked  her,  at  which  she  wondered  greatly.  She  regarded 
Mr.  Ascherberg  with  extreme  disfavour,  and  winced  at  the 
women's  conversation  when  they  were  cosily  free  from 
men.  For  the  first  day  or  two  she  held  herself  somewhat 
apart,  preferring  solitude  on  sequestered  bits  of  terrace, 
where  she  could  read  a  novel,  or  look  at  the  grey  hills  that 
met  the  stretch  of  purple  moorland.  But  gradually  the 
sweeter  tone  of  mind  which  she  had  brought  with  her  lost 
its  flavour,  and  having  won  sixty  pounds  from  Ascherberg, 
and  having  told  the  feminine  coterie  what  she  knew  of  the 
Wyniard  affair,  she  began  to  breathe  the  atmosphere  without 
much  difficulty.  Yet  occasionally  she  had  spasms  of  revolt. 
In  a  corner  of  the  drawing-room  stood  a  marble  copy  of  the 
little  Laughing  Faun  in  the  Louvre,  put  there  by  the  late 
baron,  and  every  time  her  eye  fell  upon  it,  the  picture  of 
another  faun  arose  before  her,  and  with  it  the  memory  of 
a  homely  man  with  bright  kind  eyes,  and  she  seemed  to  draw 
a  breath  of  purer  air.  But  she  called  the  fancy  foolishness 
and  hardened  her  heart. 

Still,  had  it  not  been  for  Theodore  Weever,  the  American 
man  of  affairs,  she  would  probably  have  found  some  pretext 
for  an  abrupt  departure.  He  alone  was  a  personality 
among  the  characterless,  vicious  men  and  women  of  the 
house-party.  Short,  spare,  alert,  bald-headed,  clean-shaven, 
clear-featured,  he  was  of  a  type  apart.  Norma,  who  had  a 
keen  intelligence,  divined  in  him  from  the  first  an  adversary 
upon  whom  she  could  sharpen  her  wit  and  a  companion 
who  would  not  bore  her  with  dreary  tales  of  sport  or  the 
unprofitable  details  of  his  last  night's  play.  And  from 

126 


Two  Idylls 

the  first  Theodore  Weever  was  attracted  towards  Norma. 
Their  lax  associates,  in  spite  of  her  engagement  to  Morland 
being  perfectly  well  known  and  in  spite  of  Morland's  ex- 
pected arrival,  recognised  their  pairing  with  embarrassing 
frankness,  and  said  appalling  things  about  them  behind 
their  backs.  For  a  few  days  therefore  they  found  them- 
selves inseparable.  At  last  their  friendship  reached  the 
confidential  stage.  Mr.  Theodore  Weever  avowed  the 
object  of  his  present  visit  to  England.  He  was  in  search 
of  a  decorative  wife. 

"  It  ought  to  be  as  easy  as  turning  over  a  book  of  wall- 
papers," said  Norma. 

"  And  as  difficult  to  choose,"  said  he. 

"You  must  know  what  scheme  of  colouring  and  design 
you  want." 

u  Precisely.  I  don't  find  it  in  the  books  of  stock  pat- 
terns, either  here  or  in  America.  And  I  've  ransacked 
America." 

"Is n't  the  line  —  I  believe  in  commercial  circles  they 
call  it  a  line  —  is  n't  the  line  of  specially  selected  duchesses 
for  the  English  market  good  enough  for  you  ?  "  she  asked 
with  a  smile. 

He  was  about  to  light  a  cigarette  when  she  began  her 
question.  He  lit  it  and  blew  out  the  first  few  puffs  of 
smoke  before  he  replied.  They  were  sitting  in  Norma's 
favourite  nook  on  the  terrace,  where  he,  solitary  male  who 
had  not  gone  forth  with  a  gun  that  morning,  had  been 
gratuitously  told  by  an  obliging  hostess  that  he  would 
find  her. 

"  The  American  woman  makes  a  good  decorative  duch- 
ess," he  said  in  his  incisive  tone,  "  because  she  has  to 
sweep  herself  clean  of  every  tradition  she  was  born  with 

127 


Where  Love  Is 

and  accept  bodily  the  very  much  bigger  and  more  dazzling 
tradition  of  your  old  aristocracy.  She  can  do  it,  because 
she  is  infinitely  sensitive  and  intelligent.  But  she  is  a 
changed  creature.  She  has  to  live  up  to  her  duke." 

He  puffed  for  a  moment  or  two  at  his  cigarette. 

"  Do  you  see  what  I  am  coming  to  ? "  he  continued. 
"  I  am  not  an  English  duke.  I  am  a  plain  American 
citizen.  No  woman  in  America  would  make  it  her  ideal 
in  life  to  live  up  to  me." 

"I  don't  mean  to  be  rude,"  interrupted  Norma,  with  a 
laugh,  "  but  do  you  think  any  Englishwoman  would  ? " 

u  I  do,"  he  replied.  "  Not  to  this  insignificant,  bald- 
headed  thing  that  is  I,  but  to  what  in  the  way  of  position 
and  power  I  represent.  An  American  woman  would  bring 
her  traditions  along  with  her  —  her  superior  culture,  her 
natural  right  to  be  enthroned  as  queen,  her  expectation 
that  I  would  take  a  back  seat  in  my  own  house.  It  is  I 
that  would  become  a  sort  of  grotesque  decoration  in  the 
place.  Now,  I  may  be  grotesque,  but  I  will  not  consent 
to  be  decorative.  I  fully  intend  to  be  master.  I  am  not 
going  to  be  Mrs.  Theodore  Weever's  husband.  I  want  an 
Englishwoman  to  bring  along  her  traditions.  She  will 
be  naturally  grande  dame;  she  will  come  to  my  house, 
my  social  world,  frankly  the  wife  of  Theodore  Weever, 
and  ready  to  support  the  dignity,  whatever  it  may  be,  of 
Theodore  Weever,  just  as  she  would  have  supported  the 
dignity  of  Lord  So  and  So,  had  she  been  married  to 
him  in  England." 

"  You  will  find  thousands  of  English  girls  who  can  do 
that,"  said  Norma.  "  I  don't  see  your  difficulty." 

"  She  must  be  decorative,"  said  Weever. 

"  And  that  means  ?  " 

128 


Two  Idylls 

"  She  must  be  a  queenly  woman,  but  one  content  to 
be  queen  consort.  Your  queenly  woman  —  with  brains 
—  is  not  so  easy  to  find.  I  have  met  only  one  in  my  life 
who  is  beyond  all  my  dreams  of  the  ideal.  Of  course  the 
inherent  malice  of  things  screws  her  down  like  one  blade 
of  a  pair  of  scissors  to  another  fellow." 

"  Who  is  the  paragon  ?  "  asked  Norma. 

"  It  would  n't  be  fair  on  the  other  fellow  to  tell  you," 
said  he. 

"  Is  it  sheer  honesty,  or  the  fear  of  being  cut  in  half 
by  the  pair  of  scissors  that  keeps  you  from  coming  between 
them  ?  " 

"I  think  it's  honesty,"  he  replied.  "If  I  can  guess 
rightly,  the  scissors  have  n't  so  fine  an  edge  on  them  as  to 
make  them  dangerous." 

"  They  may  be  desperately  in  love  with  one  another,  for 
all  you  know." 

"  They  are  delightful  worldlings  of  our  own  particular 
world,  dear  lady,"  said  Weever,  with  a  smile. 

Thus  was  Norma  given  to  understand  that  the  post  of 
decorative  queen  consort  in  Mr.  Theodore  Weever's  Fifth 
Avenue  palace  was  at  her  disposal.  A  year  ago  she  might 
have  considered  the  offer  seriously ;  now  that  she  felt 
secure  of  a  brilliant  position  as  Morland's  wife,  she  was 
amused  by  its  frank  impudence.  She  held  other  laughing 
conversations  with  him  on  the  subject  of  his  search,  but,  too 
prudent  to  commit  indiscretions,  she  gave  no  hint  that  she 
had  understood  his  personal  allusion,  and  Weever  was  too 
shrewd  to  proceed  any  further  towards  his  own  undoing. 
They  remained  paired,  however,  to  their  mutual  satisfaction, 
until  Morland's  arrival,  when  Theodore  Weever  took  his 
departure.  In  fact,  the  same  carriage  that  conveyed  the 
9  129 


Where  Love  Is 

American  to  the  station  remained  for  a  necessary  half-hour 
to  meet  Morland's  train,  and  Norma,  who  dutifully  drove 
down  to  welcome  her  affianced,  shared  the  carriage  with  the 
departing  guest. 

She  stood  on  the  platform  chatting  with  him  as  he  leaned 
out  of  the  window. 

u  When  shall  we  see  each  other  again  ?  "   she  said  idly. 

"  Next  month." 

"  Where  ?  "  she  asked,  somewhat  taken  aback  by  his 
decided  tone. 

"  I  am  putting  in  some  time  at  Chiltern  Towers.  I  had 
a  letter  this  morning  from  the  duchess,  asking  me  to  come 
and  meet  the  Princess  of  Herren-Rothbeck." 

They  looked  at  each  other,  and  Norma  laughed. 

"  Beware  of  Her  Serene  Highness." 

"  Oh,  I  've  had  dealings  with  her  before,"  replied 
Weever.  "  I  reckon  I  get  my  money's  worth.  Don't 
you  fret  about  me." 

The  guard  came  up  and  touched  his  cap. 

"  We  are  oft"  now,  miss." 

She  shook  hands  with  Weever,  saying  with  a  laugh,  "  I 
hope  you  will  find  that  bit  of  decoration." 

"  Don't  you  fret  about  that,  either,"  he  said  with  a  quick, 
hard  glance.  "  I  'm  in  no  hurry.  I  can  wait." 

The  train  started,  and  was  soon  swallowed  by  a  tunnel  a 
few  hundred  yards  up  the  line.  Norma  patrolled  the  plat- 
form of  the  little  wayside  station  waiting  for  Morland. 
The  place  was  very  still.  The  only  porter  had  departed 
somewhither.  The  station-master  had  retired  into  his 
office.  The  coachman  outside  the  station  sat  like  a  well- 
bred  image  on  his  box,  and  the  occasional  clink  of  the 
harness,  as  the  horses  threw  up  their  heads,  sounded  sharp 

130 


Two  Idylls 

and  clear.  Nothing  around  but  mountain  and  moorland ; 
a  short  distance  in  front  a  ravine  with  a  lazily  trickling, 
half-dried-up  mountain  stream.  Here  and  there  a  clump 
of  larch  and  fir,  and  a  rough  granite  boulder.  An  over- 
cast sky  threw  dreariness  on  the  silent  waste.  Norma 
shivered,  suddenly  struck  with  a  sense  of  isolation.  She 
seemed  to  stand  in  the  same  relation  with  her  soul's  horizon 
as  with  the  physical  universe.  The  man  that  had  gone 
had  left  her  with  a  little  feeling  of  fear  for  the  future,  a 
little  after-taste  of  bitterness.  The  man  that  was  coming 

O 

would  bring  her  no  thrill  of  joy.  As  she  stood  between  a 
drab  sky  and  a  bleak  earth,  so  stood  she  utterly  alone  in  the 
still  pause  between  a  past  and  a  future  equally  unillumined. 
She  longed  for  the  sun  to  break  out  of  the  heaven,  for 
the  sounds  of  joyous  things  to  come  from  plain  and  moun- 
tain ;  and  she  longed  for  light  and  song  in  her  heart. 

She  had  been  watching  for  the  past  few  days  the  pro- 
ceedings of  a  half-recognised,  irregular  union.  The 
woman  was  the  frivolous,  heartless,  almost  passionless  wife 
of  a  casual  husband  at  the  other  end  of  the  earth  ;  the  man 
an  underbred  fellow  on  the  stock  exchange.  She  ordered 
him  about  and  called  him  Tommy.  He  clothed  her  in 
extravagant  finery,  and  openly  showed  her  his  sovereign 
male's  contempt.  Norma  had  overheard  him  tell  her  to 
go  to  the  devil  and  leave  him  alone,  when  she  hinted  one 
night,  in  a  whisper  that  was  meant  for  his  ears  alone,  that 
he  was  drinking  overmuch  whisky.  It  was  all  so  sordid, 
so  vulgar  —  the  bond  between  them  so  unsanctified  by  any- 
thing like  tenderness,  chivalry,  devotion.  Norma  had  felt 
the  revulsion  of  her  sex. 

What  would  be  the  future  ?  By  any  chance  like  this 
woman's  life  ?  Would  the  day  come  when  she  would 

13* 


Where  Love  Is 

sell  herself  for  a  gown  and  a  bracelet,  throvvn  at  her  with 
a  man's  contemptuous  word  ?  Was  marriage  very  widely 
different  from  such  a  union  ?  Was  not  she  selling  her- 
self? Might  not  the  man  she  was  waiting  for  go  the  way 
of  so  many  others  of  his  type,  drink  and  coarsen  and  tell 
her  to  go  to  the  devil  ? 

She  longed  for  the  sun,  but  not  a  gleam  pierced  the  leaden 
sky ;  she  sought  in  her  soul  for  a  ray  of  light,  but  none  came. 

At  last  with  a  shriek  and  a  billowing  plume  of  smoke 
the  down  train  emerged  from  the  tunnel.  Norma  set  her 
face  in  its  calm  ironic  mask  and  waited  for  the  train  to 
draw  up.  Only  two  passengers  alighted,  Morland  and 
his  man.  Morland  came  to  her  with  smiling  looks  and 
grasped  her  by  the  hand. 

u  You  are  looking  more  beautiful  than  ever,"  he  whis- 
pered, bringing  his  face  close  to  hers. 

She  started  back  as  if  she  had  been  struck.  The  fumes 
of  brandy  were  in  his  breath.  Her  hideous  forebodings 
were  in  process  of  fulfilment. 

"  The  whole  station  will  hear  you,"  she  said  coldly, 
turning  away. 

The  Imp  of  Mischance  rubbed  his  hands  gleefully  at 
his  contrivance.  Morland,  a  temperate  man,  had  merely 
felt  chilly  after  an  all-night's  journey,  and,  more  out  of 
idleness  than  from  a  desire  for  alcohol,  had  foolishly  taken 
a  sip  out  of  his  brandy  flask  a  moment  or  two  before,  when 
he  was  putting  up  his  hand-bag. 

Norma  collected  herself,  summoned  with  bitter  cynicism 
her  common-sense  to  her  aid,  and  made  smiling  amends 
for  her  shrewish  remark.  She  suffered  him  to  kiss  her  on 
the  drive  home,  and  strove  not  to  despise  herself. 


132 


Chapter  XI 
DANGER 

HEDDON  COURT  had  been  purchased  by  a 
wealthy  Hardacre  at  the  beginning  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  and  was  exhibited  by  his  grand- 
nephew,  the  present  occupant,  as  a  gem  of  Georgian 
architecture.  Mr.  Hardacre  had  but  a  vague  idea  what 
the  definition  meant,  but  it  sounded  very  impressive.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  a  Palladian  stone  building,  with 
pediments  over  the  windows  and  severe  rustication  on  the 
lower  courses.  As  none  of  the  succeeding  Hardacres 
had  any  money  to  devote  to  extensions,  the  building  had 
remained  in  its  original  perfection  of  formality,  and  Mr. 
Hardacre  did  well  to  be  proud  of  it.  The  ground's  had 
been  laid  out  in  the  Italian  style  ;  but  the  tastes  and  fashions 
of  over  a  hundred  years  had  caused  the  classic  architect's 
design  to  be  practically  indiscernible.  A  lawn  with  trim 
flower-beds,  bounded  by  an  arc  of  elm-trees  and  bordered 
by  a  circular  carriage  drive  faced  the  south  front.  Along 
the  east  front  ran  a  series  of  terraces.  The  highest,  a  foot 
or  two  below  the  level  of  the  drawing-room  floor,  ended 
on  the  north  in  a  porticoed  temple,  now  used  as  an  after- 
noon lounge,  and  incongruously  furnished  with  rugs  and 
frivolous  wickerwork  chairs  and  tables.  The  next  terrace, 
some  eight  feet  below,  was  devoted  to  a  tennis  court.  A 
thick  hedge  of  clipped  yew  and  a  screen  of  wire  netting  hid 

133 


Where  Love  Is 

the  lowest,  the  most  charming  of  all,  which,  surrounded  on 
all  sides  by  a  sloping  bank  and  flanked  on  three  sides  by 
tall  trees,  had  been  delicately  turfed  for  a  bowling-green 
and  was  now  used  for  croquet. 

In  this  stately  paradise,  warmed  by  sunny  September 
weather,  Jimmie  had  already  spent  two  or  three  blissful 
days.  His  only  regret  was  the  absence  of  Aline.  She 
had  been  invited,  but  for  reasons  in  which  doubtless  Tony 
Merewether  had  a  place,  she  had  declined  the  invitation. 
She  gave  Jimmie  to  understand  that  she  had  already  had 
her  holiday,  that  the  house  could  not  possibly  look  after 
itself  any  longer,  and  that  she  had  no  clothes  fit  to  appear 
in  among  his  grand  friends.  The  last  argument  being  un- 
answerable, save  by  contentions  at  which  the  young 
woman  tossed  a  superior  head,  Jimmie  had  yielded  and 
come  down  alone.  His  regret,  however,  was  tempered  by 
the  reflection  that  Aline  was  probably  enjoying  herself  after 
the  manner  of  betrothed  maidens,  and  it  did  not  seriously 
affect  his  happiness.  Either  chance  or  the  lady's  own 
sweet  courtesy  towards  a  guest  had  caused  him  to  see  much 
of  Norma.  She  had  driven  him  over  to  Chiltern  Towers, 
where  the  sittings  had  begun.  She  had  walked  with  him 
to  Gosford  to  show  him  the  beautiful  fourteenth-century 
church  with  its  decorated  spire.  She  had  strolled  with 
him  up  and  down  the  croquet  lawn.  She  had  chatted 
with  him  in  the  morning-room  yesterday  for  a  whole  rainy 
hour  after  lunch.  His  head  was  full  of  her  beauty  and 
condescension.  It  was  not  unnatural  that  they  should  be 
thrown  much  together.  Morland's  day  was  taken  up  by 
partridges  and  electors.  Mr.  Hardacre,  honestly  afraid  of 
Jimmie,  not  knowing  what  on  earth  to  talk  to  him  about, 
and  only  half  comprehending  his  conversation,  kept  out  of 

134 


Danger 

his  way  as  much  as  his  duties  as  host  would  allow,  and 
Mrs.  Hardacre,  who,- though  exceedingly  civil,  had  not  for- 
gotten her  defeat  in  the  studio,  felt  justified  in  leaving  his 
entertainment  in  the  hands  of  others  who  professed  to  ad- 
mire the  creature.  These  were  Norma,  Morland,  and 
Connie  Deering. 

This  afternoon  they  found  themselves  again  alone 
together,  at  tea  in  the  classic  temple  at  the  end  of  the  ter- 
race. Mrs.  Hardacre  and  Connie  had  driven  off  to  pay  a 
call,  and  the  men  were  shooting  over  ducal  turnips.  Jim- 
mie  had  received  an  invitation  to  join  the  shooting-party, 
but  not  having  handled  a  gun  since  boyish  days  (and  even 
then  Jimmie  with  firearms  was  Morland's  conception  of 
the  terror  that  walketh  by  day),  and  also  having  an  ap- 
pointment with  the  princess  for  a  second  sitting,  he  had 
declined,  and  Morland,  when  he  heard  of  it,  had  clapped 
him  on  the  back  and  expressed  his  fervent  gratitude. 

Jimmie  had  been  narrating  his  morning's  adventures  at 
Chiltern  Towers,  and  explaining  the  point  of  view  from 
which  he  was  painting  the  portrait.  It  was  to  be  that  of 
the  very  great  lady,  with  the  blood  of  the  earth's  great 
rulers  in  her  veins.  It  was  to  be  half  full-length,  just 
showing  the  transparent,  aristocratic  hands  set  off  by  rich 
old  lace  at  the  wrists.  A  certain  acidity  of  temper  be- 
trayed by  the  pinched  nostrils  and  thin  lips  he  would  try  to 
modify,  as  it  would  be  out  of  keeping  with  his  basic 
conception.  Norma  listened,  interested  more  in  the 
speaker  than  in  the  subject,  her  mind  occasionally  wan- 
dering, as  it  had  been  wont  to  do  of  late,  to  a  compar- 
ison of  ideals.  Since  that  half-hour's  loneliness  on  the 
platform  of  the  little  Highland  station,  she  had  passed 
through  many  hours  of  unrest.  To-day  the  mood  had 


Where  Love  Is 

again  come  upon  her.  A  talk  with  her  mother  about  the 
great  garden-party  they  were  giving  in  two  days'  time, 
to  which  the  princess  and  the  duchess  were  coming,  had 
aroused  her  scorn ;  a  casual  phrase  of  Morland's  in  refer- 
ence to  the  election  had  jarred  upon  her ;  a  sudden  meet- 
ing in  Cosford  with  Theodore  Weever,  and  a  laughing 
reference  to  the  decorative  wife  had  brought  back  the 
little  shiver  of  fear.  The  only  human  being  in  the 
world  who  could  settle  her  mood  —  and  now  she  felt  it 
consciously  —  was  this  odd,  sweet-natured  man  who 
seemed  to  live  in  a  beautiful  world. 

As  he  talked  she  listened,  and  her  mind  wandered  from 
the  subject.  She  thought  of  his  life,  his  surroundings,  of 
the  girl  whose  love  affair  he  had  told  her  of  so  tenderly. 
She  took  advantage  of  a  pause,  occasioned  by  the  handing 
of  a  second  cup  of  tea  and  the  judicious  choosing  of  cake, 
to  start  the  new  topic. 

"I  suppose  Aline  is  very  happy." 

Jimmie  laughed.  u  What  put  my  little  girl  into  your 
head  ?  " 

"I  have  been  thinking  a  good  deal  about  her  since  you 
wrote  of  her  engagement.  Is  it  really  such  an  idyll  ?  " 

"  The  love  of  two  sweet,  clean  young  people  is  always 
idyllic.  It  is  so  untainted  —  pure  as  a  mountain  spring. 
There  is  nothing  quite  like  it  in  the  world." 

"  When  are  they  going  to  set  up  house  together  ?  " 

"  Soon,  I  hope." 

"  You  will  miss  her." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Jimmie,  "  enormously.  But  the 
thoughts  of  her  happiness  will  keep  me  pleasant  company. 
I  shall  get  on  all  right.  Meanwhile  it  is  beautiful  to  see 
her.  She  doesn't  know  that  I  watch,  but  I  do.  It  is 

J36 


Danger 

sweet  to  see  her  eyes  brighten  and  her  cheeks  flush  and  to 
hear  her  laughter.  It  is  like  stepping  for  an  enchanted 
moment  into  a  fairy-tale." 

"  I  wish  I  could  step  into  it  — just  for  one  enchanted 
moment,"  said  Norma. 

"  You  ?  "  asked  Jimmie. 

"  I  have  never  been  in  one  in  my  life.  I  disbelieved 
in  them  till  you  came  like  an  apostle  of  fairyland  and 
converted  me.  Now  I  want  the  consolations  of  my 
faith." 

An  earnest  note  in  her  voice  surprised  him.  She  did 
not  meet  his  eyes. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  he  said. 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  would,"  she  answered.  "You 
seem  to  understand  most  things." 

"You  have  your  own  —  happiness." 

He  hesitated  on  the  word.  A  quick  glance  assured  her 
of  his  ingenuousness.  She  longed  to  undeceive  him,  to 
shriek  out  her  heartlessness,  her  contempt  for  herself  and 
for  her  life.  But  pride  and  loyalty  to  Morland  restrained 
her  within  bounds  of  sanity.  She  assented  to  his  proposi- 
tion with  a  gesture  of  the  shapely  hand  that  lay  on  the 
tea-table  absently  tracing  the  pattern  of  the  cloth. 

"  Yes,  I  have  that.  But  it  is  n't  the  fairyland  of  those 
two  children.  You  yourself  say  there  is  nothing  like  it  in 
the  world.  You  don't  know  how  I  pine  for  it  sometimes 
—  for  the  things  that  are  sweet  and  clean  and  untainted 
and  pure  as  a  mountain  spring.  They  don't  come  my 
way.  They  never  will." 

"  You  are  wrong,"  said  Jimmie.  "  Love  will  bring 
them  all  to  you  —  that  and  a  perfect  wedded  life  and  little 
children." 

137 


Where  Love  Is 

For  a  flash  she  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  full  into  his, 
and  for  the  first  time  the  love  in  the  man's  heart  surged 
tumultuously.  It  rose  of  a  sudden,  without  warning,  flood- 
ing his  being,  choking  him.  What  it  was  of  yearning, 
despair,  passion,  horror  that  he  saw  in  her  eyes  he  knew 
not.  He  did  not  read  in  them  the  craving  of  a  starved 
soul  for  food.  To  him  their  burning  light  was  a  mystery. 
All  that  ever  reached  his  consciousness  was  that  it  was  a 
look  such  as  he  had  never  before  beheld  in  a  woman's 
face ;  and  against  his  will  and  against  his  reason  it  acted 
like  some  dark  talisman  and  unlocked  floodgates.  He 
clenched  the  arms  of  the  wickerwork  chair,  and  bit  his  lip 
hard,  and  stared  at  the  ground. 

Norma  broke  into  a  hard  laugh,  and  lay  back  in  her 
chair. 

"  You  must  be  thinking  me  a  great  fool,"  she  said,  in 
her  usual  mocking  tones.  "When  a  woman  tries  to  swim 
in  sentiment,  she  flounders,  and  either  drowns  or  has  to  be 
lugged  ignominiously  to  shore.  She  can't  swim  like  a  man. 
Thanks  for  the  rescue,  Mr.  Padgate." 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  said  curtly. 

"  I  'm  back  on  dry  land.  Oh !  it  is  safer  for  me. 
There  I  am  protected  by  my  little  bodyguard  of  three  — 
the  World,  the  Flesh,  and  the  Devil.  I  can't  get  on  with- 
out them." 

Jimmie  leaped  from  his  chair  and  brought  his  clenched 
hands  down  to  his  sides  in  a  passionate  gesture. 

"  Stop  talking  like  that,  I  say  !  "  he  cried  imperiously. 

Then  meeting  her  scared  and  indignant  glance,  he  bowed 
somewhat  wide  of  her. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  no  great 

133 


Danger 

apology,  and  marched  out  of  the  little  temple  and  along  the 
gravelled  walk  of  the  terrace.  Flight,  or  the  loss  of  self- 
control,  was  his  only  alternative.  What  she  thought  of 
him  he  did  not  care.  The  sense  of  increasing  distance 
from  her  alone  brought  security  to  his  soul. 

At  the  further  end  he  met  Mrs.  Deering  just  back  from 
her  drive. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Jimmie  ? "  she  asked,  twirl- 
ing an  idle  sunshade  over  her  pretty  head,  for  the  terrace 
was  in  deep  afternoon  shadow. 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied,  with  a  ghastly  attempt  at  a 
smile.  "  I  am  going  for  a  walk  before  dinner." 

He  left  her  standing,  reached  the  highroad  and  pounded 
along  it.  What  a  fool  he  had  been  !  What  a  mad  fool 
he  had  been ! 

Mrs.  Deering,  with  a  puzzled  expression  on  her  face, 
watched  him  disappear.  She  turned  and  strolled  down  to 
Norma,  who  greeted  her  with  a  satiric  smile. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  to  Jimmie  ?  "  asked  Mis. 
Deering. 

"I  have  been  giving  him  lessons  in  worldly  wisdom." 

"  Poor  dear !  They  seem  to  have  disagreed  with 
him." 

Norma  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  That 's  his  affair,  not 
mine." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  and  Jimmie  have 
quarrelled  ?  "  laughed  Connie.  "  How  delightful !  I  've 
always  wanted  to  quarrel  with  Jimmie  just  for  the  pleasure 
of  kissing  and  making  friends.  But  it  has  been  impossible. 
Is  it  serious  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,"  Norma  answered ;  and  then  after  a  pause, 
"  Oh,  Connie,  I  'm  afraid  I  've  been  a  positive  brute." 


Where  Love  Is 

Which  evidence  of  a  salutary  conviction  of  her  own 
wrongdoing  shows  that  Jimmie's  amazing  shout  of  com- 
mand had  not  aroused  within  her  any  furious  indignation. 
Indeed,  after  the  first  moment  of  breathless  astonishment, 
she  had  expressed  an  odd,  almost  amusing  thrill  of  admi- 
ration for  the  man  who  had  dared  address  her  in  that  fashion. 
It  was  only  a  small  feminine  satisfaction  in  the  know- 
ledge that  by  going  away  he  would  punish  himself  for  his 
temerity  that  had  restrained  her  from  summoning  him 
back.  As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  call,  she  reproached 
herself  for  misconduct.  She  could  have  strangled  the 
wanton  devil  that  had  prompted  her  cynical  speech.  And 
yet  the  same  devil  had  saved  an  embarrassing  situation. 
Wedded  life  and  little  children  !  If  she  had  spoken  what 
was  trembling  on  her  lips,  how  could  she  have  looked  the 
man  in  the  face  again  ?  Her  sex  was  revolting  against 
that  very  prospect,  was  clamouring  wildly  for  she  knew 
not  what.  She  dared  not  betray  herself. 

She  greeted  him  smilingly  in  the  drawing-room  before 
dinner,  as  if  nothing  had  occurred,  and  chatted  pleasantly 
with  Morland  over  his  day's  fortunes.  Jimmie  observed 
her  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  He  had  passed  the  last  two 
hours  greatly  agitated ;  he  had  trembled  lest  he  had  re- 
vealed to  her  his  soul's  secret,  and  also  lest  his  unmannerK- 
ness  had  given  unpardonable  offence.  In  any  case,  now 
he  saw  himself  forgiven,  and  breathed  freely.  But  he 
remained  unusually  silent  during  dinner,  and  spent  most  of 
the  evening  in  the  billiard-room  with  Mr.  Hardacre. 

That  gentleman,  joining  the  ladies  later,  fell  into  con- 
versation with  his  daughter. 

"  How  long  is  Padgate  going  to  stay  ?  "  he  asked,  mop- 
ping his  forehead  with  his  handkerchief. 

140 


Danger 

"Till  the  princess  has  completed  her  sittings,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Norma. 

"  I  wish  she  'd  be  quick.  I  don't  know  what  to  do 
with  the  fellow.  Does  n't  shoot,  can't  play  billiards  worth 
a  cent,  and  does  n't  seem  to  know  anybody.  It 's  like 
talking  to  a  chap  that  does  n't  understand  your  language. 
I  've  just  been  at  it.  Happened  to  say  I  'd  like  to  go  to 
Rome  again.  He  fetches  a  sigh  and  says  so  should  he. 
4  Some  of  the  best  wild-duck  shooting  in  the  world,'  I  said. 
He  stared  at  me  for  a  moment  as  if  I  were  an  escaped 
lunatic.  Now,  what  on  earth  should  a  reasonable  being 
go  to  that  beastly  place  for  except  to  shoot  wild-duck  on 
the  marshes  ?  " 

Norma  laughed  the  little  mocking  laugh  that  always 
irritated  her  father. 

"  You  need  n't  be  afraid  of  not  entertaining  Mr.  Padgate. 
He  must  have  enjoyed  the  conversation  hugely." 

"  Damme  —  if  the  fellow  is  laughing  at  me  — "  he 
began. 

"  He  would  not  be  the  very  fine  gentleman  that  he  is," 
said  Norma.  "  Where  is  he  now  ?  " 

"  Morland  relieved  guard  in  the  billiard-room,  when  the 
post  came  in,"  growled  Mr.  Hardacre,  who  shrank  from 
crossing  swords  with  his  daughter,  and  indeed  with  any- 
body. "  He  is  happy  enough  with  Morland." 

At  that  particular  moment,  however,  there  was  not  over- 
much happiness  in  the  billiard-room.  A  letter  from  Aline 
had  been  accompanied  by  one  for  u  David  Rendell,  Es- 
quire" which  she  had  enclosed.  Morland  read  it,  and 
crushed  it  angrily  into  the  pocket  of  his  dinner-jacket,  and 
began  to  knock  the  balls  about  in  an  aimless  way.  Jimmie 
watched  him  anxiously  and,  as  he  did  not  speak,  unfolded 

141 


Where  Love  Is 

his  own  letter  from  Aline.  Suddenly  he  rose  from  the 
divan  where  he  had  been  sitting  and  approached  the 
table. 

"  There  is  something  here  that  you  ought  to  know, 
Morland.  A  man  has  been  enquiring  for  you  at  my 
house." 

u  Well,  why  should  n't  he  ?  "  asked  Morland,  making  a 
savage  shot. 

"  He  enquired  for  David  Rendell." 

Morland  threw  down  his  cue. 

«  Well  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  Aline,  who  is  a  miracle  of  sagacity  as  a 
general  ijule,  has  made  a  mess  of  it.  You  must  n't  be 
angry  with  my  poor  little  girl.  Her  head  is  full  of  sweeter 
things." 

"  What  has  she  done  ?  "  Morland  asked  impatiently. 

"  I  '11  read  :  1 1  told  him  that  Mr.  Rendell  was  a  friend 
of  yours,  and  gave  him  your  present  address.  He  muttered 
something  about  a  false  name  and  went  away  without 
thanking  me.'  ' 

"  Good  God  !  "  cried  Morland,  "  what  damned  fools 
women  are !  Did  she  say  what  kind  of  a  man  he 
was  ? " 

Jimmie  looked  through  the  letter,  and  finding  the  passage, 
read  :  " l  An  odd-looking  creature,  like  a  mad  Methodist 
parson  ! ' 

Morland  uttered  an  exclamation  of  anger  and  apprehen- 
sion. His  brow  grew  black,  and  his  florid  comely  features 
coarsened  into  ugliness. 

"  I  thought  so.  It  could  n't  have  been  any  one  else.  He 
was  the  only  person  who  knew.  She  has  given  me  away 
nicely.  The  devil  only  knows  what  will  happen." 

142 


Danger 

Jimmie  leant  up  against  the  table  and  folded  his  arms, 
and  looked  at  Morland  moving  restlessly  to  and  fro  and 
giving  vent  to  his  anger. 

"Who  is  this  man  you  seem  to  be  so  afraid  of?"  he 
asked  quietly. 

Morland  stopped  upon  the  unpleasant  word,  then 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  am  afraid  of  him.  One  can't  reckon 
upon  anything  that  he  might  or  might  not  do.  He  's  like 
a  mad  cat.  I  've  seen  him.  So  have  you." 

"  I  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  that  socialist  maniac  you  dragged  me  to  hear 
one  Sunday  in  Hyde  Park." 

"  Whew  !  "  said  Jimmie.  He  remembered  the  look  in  the 
orator's  eyes,  his  crazy,  meaningless  words,  his  fierce  re- 
fusal to  enter  into  friendly  talk ;  also  Morland's  impatient 
exclamation  and  abrupt  departure  as  soon  as  they  had 
learned  the  man's  name. 

"  He 's  as  mad  as  a  hatter,"  he  said.  "  If  he  should  take 
it  into  his  head  to  come  down  here  and  make  a  row,  there 
will  be  the  deuce  to  pay,"  said  Morland. 

Jimmie  reflected  for  a  moment.  The  man,  with  his 
wild  talk  of  maidens  lashed  to  the  chariot-wheels  of  the 
rich,  must  have  been  tortured  by  the  sense  of  some  per- 
sonal wrong. 

"  How  does  he  come  into  the  story  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You 
had  better  tell  me." 

"  The  usual  way.  Oh,  I  wish  to  God  I  had  never  got 
into  this  mess  !  A  man  of  position  is  an  infernal  fool  to 
go  rotting  about  after  that  sort  of  thing.  Oh,  don't  you 
see  ?  He  had  a  crazy  passion  for  her,  was  engaged  to  her 
—  he  was  mad  then.  When  I  came  along,  he  had  to 

'43 


Where  Love  Is 

drop  it,  and  he  has  been  persecuting  her  ever  since  — 
divided  between  the  desire  to  marry  her  in  spite  of  every- 
thing, and  to  murder  me.  That 's  why  I  had  the  assumed 
name  and  false  address.  I  would  n't  have  let  you  in  for 
this  bother,  but  I  could  n't  go  and  run  the  risk  of  being 
blackmailed  at  a  confounded  little  stationer's  shop  up  a 
back  street.  He  has  been  trying  to  get  on  my  track  all 
the  time  —  and  now  he 's  succeeded,  thanks  to  Aline. 
Why  the  devil  could  n't  she  hold  her  tongue  ?  " 

"  Because  she  is  an  innocent  child,  who  has  never 
dreamed  of  evil,"  said  Jimmie. 

Morland  walked  about  the  room,  agitated,  for  a  few 
moments,  then  halted. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,  Jimmie.  She  is  n't  to  blame.  Be- 
sides, the  mischief  is  done,  so  it 's  no  use  talking." 

"  Were  you  thinking  of  any  such  possibility  in  the  sum- 
mer when  you  asked  me  to  help  you  ?  "  said  Jimmie. 

Morland  cast  a  quick,  hopeful  glance  at  his  friend. 

"  Something  of  the  sort.  One  never  knows.  You  were 
the  only  man  I  could  rely  on." 

"  Does  this  man  know  you  by  sight  ?  " 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge." 

"Then  what  are  you  so  afraid  of?  Look  here,  my  dear 
old  boy,"  he  said  cheerily,  "you  are  being  frighted  by  false 
fire.  If  it  is  only  a  question  of  dealing  with  the  man 
when  he  comes  here  —  that  is,  supposing  he  does  come  — 
which  is  very  unlikely,  I  will  tackle  him  as  the  only  person 
who  knows  anything  about  David  Rendell.  I  '11  tell  him 
Darid  Rendell  is  in  Scotland  or  Honolulu." 

"  He  is  on  the  track  of  the  false  name,"  said  Morland, 
uneasily.  "  Aline  mentions  that." 

"  He  is  bound  to  come  to  me  first,"  said  Jimmie.  "  I  '11 

144 


Danger 

fix  him.  We  '11  get  on  capitally  together.  There 's  a  free- 
masonry between  lunatics.  Leave  it  all  to  me." 

"  Really  ?  "  cried  Morland,  in  great  eagerness. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Jimmie.     "  Let  us  go  upstairs." 

They  passed  out  of  the  billiard-room  in  silence.  On 
their  way  to  the  drawing-room  Morland  murmured  in  a 
shamefaced  way  his  apologia.  He  was  just  at  the  begin- 
ning of  his  electoral  campaign.  It  was  his  own  county. 
He  was  hand  in  glove  with  the  duchess,  sovereign  lady  of 
these  parts,  and  she  never  forgave  a  scandal.  "  Besides,"  he 
added,  "  to  quote  your  own  words,  it  would  break  Norma's 
heart."  Also,  employing  the  limited  vocabulary  of  his 
class  and  type,  he  reiterated  the  old  assurance  that  he  had 
not  been  a  beast.  He  had  done  all  that  a  man  could  to 
make  amends.  If  Jimmie  had  not  loved  him  so  loyally, 
he  would  have  seen  something  very  pitiful  in  these  excuses ; 
but  convinced  that  Morland  had  atoned  as  far  as  lay  in  his 
power  for  his  fault,  he  trembled  for  the  happiness  of  only 
those  dear  to  him. 

Norma  met  them  on  the  drawing-room  landing. 

11 1  was  coming  down  to  see  what  had  become  of  you," 
she  said. 

"  I  have  been  the  culprit.  I  restore  him  to  you,"  laughed 
Jimmie.  He  entered  the  room  and  closed  the  door.  The 
betrothed  pair  stood  for  a  moment  in  an  embarrassed 
silence.  She  laid  a  hesitating  hand  on  his  sleeve. 

41  Morland — "she  said  diffidently.  "I  was  really 
wanting  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you.  Somehow  we  don't 
often  see  one  another." 

Morland,  surprised  at  the  softness  in  her  voice,  led  her 
back  to  the  billiard-room. 


10 


Chapter  XII 
NORMA'S   ENLIGHTENMENT 

THE  development  of  the  germ  of  goodness  in  wo- 
man may  be  measured  by  her  tendency  towards 
self-sacrifice.  Even  the  most  selfish  of  her  sex, 
provided  she  has  some  rudimentary  virtues,  hugs  close  to 
her  bosom  some  pet  little  thorn  which  she  loves  to  dig  into 
her  shrinking  flesh.  She  enjoys  some  odd  little  mortifica- 
tion, some  fantastic  humiliation,  that  is  known  only  to  the 
inner  chamber  of  her  soul.  Your  great-hearted  woman 
practises  Suttee  daily,  greatly  to  the  consternation  of  an 
observant  yet  unperceptive  husband.  Doubtless  this  char- 
acteristic has  a  sexual  basis,  psychological  perhaps  rather 
than  directly  physiological,  being  an  instinctive  assertion 
of  the  fundamental  principle  of  passivity,  which  in  its  turn 
is  translated  into  the  need  to  be  held  down  and  subdued. 
Thus,  if  the  man  does  not  beat  her,  she  will  beat  herself  j 
if  he  is  a  fool,  she  will  often  apply  caustic  to  her  wisdom, 
so  that  she  may  reverence  him ;  if  he  is  a  knave,  she 
will  choke  her  honesty.  Side  by  side  with  the  assertion  of 
this  principle,  and  indeed  often  inextricably  confused  with 
it,  is  the  maternal  impulse,  which  by  manifold  divergences 
from  its  primary  manifestation  causes  women  to  find  a 
joy,  uncomprehended  by  men,  in  pangs  of  suffering.  The 
higher  the  type  the  stronger  the  impulse  towards  this  sweet 
self-martyrdom. 

146 


Norma's  Enlightenment 

Some  such  theory  alone  explains  the  softer  tones  in 
Norma's  voice  when  she  spoke  to  Morland.  She  had 
passed  through  two  periods  of  sharp  development  —  the 
half-hour  in  Scotland  and  the  hours  she  had  spent  since 
her  talk  with  Jimmie  that  afternoon.  She  acted  blindly, 
obeying  an  imperative  voice. 

They  sat  down  together  on  the  raised  divan.  She  was 
dressed  in  black,  with  a  bunch  of  yellow  roses  at  her 
bosom,  and  her  neck  and  arms  gleamed  white  in  the 
shadow  cast  by  the  green  shades  over  the  billiard-table. 
Her  face  had  softened.  She  was  infinitely  desirable. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  over  our  relations,  Morland,"  she 
said.  "  Perhaps  I  have  been  wrong." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked  in  some  alarm. 

"  I  told  you  when  you  asked  me  to  marry  you  that  it 
would  be  wise  to  put  sentiment  aside.  You  agreed, 
against  your  will,  and  have  observed  the  convention  very 
loyally.  But  I  have  not  treated  you  well.  In  putting 
sentiment  aside  I  was,  perhaps,  wrong.  That  is  what  I 
wanted  to  say  to  you." 

"  Let  me  see  that  I  understand  you,  Norma,"  said 
Morland.  "  You  wish  that  we  should  be  more  like  —  like 
ordinary  lovers  ?  " 

"  We  might  try,"  she  whispered. 

She  waited.  Heaven  knows  what  she  waited  for;  but  it 
did  not  come.  The  Imp  of  Mischance  again  scored  his 
point.  The  man's  mind  was  filled  with  the  thoughts  of 
another  woman  in  her  agony  and  of  a  crazy  avenger  com- 
ing with  murder  in  his  heart.  He  took  her  hand  mechan- 
ically and  raised  it  to  his  lips.  Her  yielding  to  the  caress 
told  him  that  he  could  throw  his  arms  around  her  and  treat 
her  loverwise ;  her  words  told  him  that  he  ought  to  do  so. 

147 


Where  Love  Is 

Yet  he  did  not.  For  the  moment  he  was  passionless  •,  and 
to  men  of  his  type  is  not  given  the  power,  possessed  by 
men  of  imaginative  temperament,  of  simulating  passion. 
He  forced  a  laugh. 

"  How  do  you  think  we  might  begin  ? " 

She  went  on  bravely  with  her  self-imposed  task  of 
submission. 

"  I  have  heard  that  the  man  generally  takes  the  initiative." 

He  kissed  her  on  the  cheek.  To  do  less  would  have 
been  outrageous. 

"  I  am  glad  you  realise  that  I  am  in  love  with  you,  at 
last,"  he  said. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  are  in  love  with  me  ?  "  she 
asked,  the  chill  that  had  fallen  upon  her  after  the  lack  of 
response  to  her  first  whisper  growing  colder  and  colder. 

"  Of  course  I  am." 

41  That  is  all  I  wanted  to  hear.  Good-night,"  she  said 
in  an  odd  voice.  She  rose  and  put  out  her  hand.  Morland 
opened  the  door  for  her  to  pass  and  closed  it  behind  her. 

Norma  went  straight  to  her  room,  feeling  as  though  she 
had  been  tied  by  the  heels  to  a  cart-tail  and  dragged  through 
the  mud.  Half  undressed.,  she  dismissed  her  maid  summa- 
rily. Every  place  on  her  body  that  the  girl's  fingers  touched 
seemed  to  be  a  bruise.  She  went  to  bed  stupefied  with 
herself. 

Meanwhile  Morland  rang  for  whisJcy  and  soda,  and 
cursed  all  that  appertained  to  him,  knowing  that  he  had 
missed  an  amazing  opportunity.  After  the  way  of  feeble 
men,  he  thought  of  a  hundred  things  he  might  have  said 
and  done  that  would  have  brought  her  to  his  feet.  Had 
he  not  been  watching  patiently,  ever  since  his  engagement, 
for  her  to  put  off"  her  grand  airs,  and  become  a  woman  like 

148 


Norma's  Enlightenment 

the  rest  of  them  ?  He  should  have  said  the  many  things 
he  had  often  said  to  others.  Or,  if  words  were  difficult, 
why  in  the  world  had  he  not  kissed  her  properly  after  the 
manner  accepted  by  women  as  the  infallible  argument  ? 
He  conjured  up  the  exceeding  pleasantness  of  such  an  act. 
He  could  feel  the  melting  of  her  lips,  the  yielding  of  her 
bosom ;  gradually  he  worked  himself  into  a  red-hot  desire. 
A  sudden  resolve  took  him  upstairs.  There  he  learned 
that  Norma  had  retired  for  the  night,  and  returning  to  his 
whisky  in  the  billiard-room,  he  cursed  himself  more  loudly 
than  before.  A  hand  thrust  into  the  pocket  of  his  dinner- 
jacket  met  the  poor  girl's  crumpled  letter.  Mechanically 
he  took  it  to  the  empty  grate,  and  then  cursed  the  fire  for 
not  being  lit.  When  Mr.  Hardacre  came  down  for  a  final 
game  of  billiards,  he  found  his  future  son-in-law  in  an 
irritable  temper,  and  won  an  easy  game.  Rallied  upon  his 
lack  of  form,  Morland  explained  that  the  damned  election 
was  getting  on  his  nerves. 

"  Did  n't  get  on  them  when  you  were  shooting  to-day," 
said  Mr.  Hardacre. 

"  I  made  believe  that  the  birds  were  the  beastly  voters," 
replied  Morland. 

Norma  had  not  yet  come  down  the  next  morning  when 
he  started  for  Cosford  on  electioneering  business.  Nor 
did  he  meet  her,  as  he  hoped,  in  the  town,  carrying  on  the 
work  of  canvassing  which  she  had  begun  with  great  suc- 
cess. A  dry  barrister  having  been  sent  down  to  contest 
the  division  in  the  Liberal  interest,  was  not  making  much 
headway  in  a  constituency  devoted  to  the  duchess  and 
other  members  of  the  tyrannical  classes,  and  thus  the  task 
of  Norma  and  her  fellow-canvassers  was  an  easy  one.  To- 
day, however,  she  did  not  appear.  Morland  consoled  him- 


Where  Love  Is 

with  the  assurance  that  he  would  put  things  right 
in  the  evening.  After  all,  it  was  easy  enough  to  kiss 
a  woman  who  had  once  shown  a  desire  to  be  made  love  to. 
Every  man  has  his  own  philosophy  of  woman.  This  was 
Morland's. 

Jimmie  also  started  upon  his  morning's  pursuits  without 
seeing  Norma.  He  was  somewhat  relieved ;  for  he  had 
spent  a  restless  night,  dozing  off  only  to  dream  grotesque 
dreams  of  the  mad  orator  and  waking  to  fight  with  beasts 
that  gnawed  his  vitals.  He  came  down  unstrung,  a  hag- 
gard mockery  of  himself,  and  he  was  glad  not  to  meet  her 
clear  eyes.  The  three-mile  walk  to  Chiltern  Towers  re- 
freshed him,  his  work  on  the  portrait  absorbed  his  faculties, 
and  his  neighbours  at  the  ducal  luncheon-table,  to  which 
the  duchess  in  person  had  invited  him,  clear-witted  women 
in  the  inner  world  of  politics  and  diplomacy,  kept  his 
attention  at  straining  point.  It  was  only  when  he  walked 
back  to  Heddon  Court,  although  he  made  a  manful  attempt 
to  whistle  cheerily,  that  he  felt  heavy  upon  his  heart  the 
burden  of  the  night.  It  was  a  languorous  September 
afternoon,  and  the  tired  hush  of  dying  summer  had  fallen 
upon  the  world.  The  smell  of  harvest,  the  sense  of  golden 
fulfilment  of  life  hung  on  the  air.  Jimmie  swung  his 
stick  impatiently,  and  filled  his  lungs  with  a  draught  of 
the  mellow  warmth. 

"  The  old  earth  is  good.  By  God,  it 's  good  !  "  he  cried 
aloud. 

Brave  words  of  a  resolute  optimism ;  but  they  did  not 
lighten  his  burden. 

He  reached  the  house.  Beneath  an  umbrella-tent  on 
the  front  lawn  sat  Norma,  her  hands  listlessly  holding 
a  closed  book  on  her  lap.  Jimmie  wouM  have  lifted  his 


Norma's  Enlightenment 

hat  and  passed  her  by,  but  with  a  brightening  face  she 
summoned  him.  They  talked  awhile  of  commonplace 
things.  Then,  after  a  pause,  she  asked  him,  half  mock- 
ingly, to  account  for  his  behaviour  the  day  before.  Why 
had  he  rated  her  in  that  masterful  way  ? 

"  I  can't  bear  you  to  speak  evilly  of  yourself,"  he  said. 

"  Why,  since  I  deserve  it  ?  " 

"  The  you  that  you  sometimes  take  a  pleasure  in  assum- 
ing to  be  may  deserve  it.  The  real  you  does  n't.  And  it 
is  the  real  you  that  I  know  —  that  has  given  me  friendship 
and  is  going  to  marry  my  dearest  friend.  The  other  you 
is  a  phantom  of  a  hollow  world  in  which  circumstances  have 
placed  you." 

u  I  think  the  phantom  is  happier  than  the  reality,"  said 
Norma,  with  a  laugh.  "  c  The  dream  is  better  than  the 
drink.'  The  hollow  world  is  the  safer  place,  after  all." 

"Where  imagination  doth  not  corrupt  and  enthusiasms 
do  not  break  in  and  steal,"  said  Jimmie,  with  unusual  bitter- 
ness. "  I  have  seen  very  little  of  it  — but  you  have  told  me 
things,"  he  continued  lamely,  "and  your  being  in  it  and  of  it 
seems  a  profanation.  When  you  wilfully  identify  yourself 
with  its  ideals,  you  hurt  me  ;  and  when  I  am  hurt,  I  cry  out." 

"  But  why  should  you  care  so  much  about  what  I  am 
and  what  I  am  not  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  tone  half  of  genuine 
enquiry  and  half  of  expectancy,  wholly  kind  and  soft. 

He  dug  the  point  of  his  stick  into  the  turf  and  did  not 
raise  his  eyes.  He  knew  now  what  a  fool's  game  of  peril 
he  was  playing,  and  kept  himself  in  check.  Yet  his  voice 
trembled  as  he  replied  : 

"Morland  is  very  dear  to  me.  You,  his  future  wife, 
have  grown  dear  to  me  also.  I  suppose  I  have  lived  rather 
a  simple  sort  of  life  and  take  my  emotions  seriously." 


Where  Love  Is 

"  I  hope  you  thank  God  for  it,"  said  Norma. 

The  swift  rattle  of  a  carriage  turning  into  the  drive 
broke  the  talk,  which  had  grown  too  personal  to  be  left 
voluntarily.  Jimmie  felt  infinitely  grateful  to  the  visitors, 
like  a  man  suddenly  saved  from  a  threatening  precipice. 
Leaving  Norma  with  a  bow,  he  fled  into  the  house  and 
selecting  a  book  from  the  library,  went  onto  the  terrace. 
He  needed  solitude.  Something  of  which  he  was  unaware 
was  happening.  Circumstances  were  not  the  same  as 
when  he  had  first  arrived.  Then  he  had  looked  on  Norma 
with  brave  serenity.  He  was  happy,  loving  her  and  receiv- 
ing frank  friendship  from  her-condescending  hands.  Now 
it  was  growing  to  be  a  pain  to  watch  her  face,  a  dread  to 
hear  her  voice.  Sweet  intercourse  had  become  a  danger. 
And  a  few  days  had  brought  about  the  change.  Why  ? 
Of  the  riot  in  the  woman's  nature  he  knew  nothing.  In 
his  blank  ignorance,  seeking  the  cause  within  himself,  he 
asked,  Why  ? 

He  crossed  the  tennis  lawn,  went  through  the  little 
opening  at  the  end  of  the  hedge,  and  down  to  the  seclusion 
of  the  croquet  ground.  Half-way  along  the  sloping  bank 
beneath  the  upper  terrace  some  one  had  left  a  rug.  He 
threw  himself  upon  it,  and  tried  like  many  another  poor 
fool  to  reason  down  his  hunger.  But  all  the  sensitive 
nerves  with  which  the  imaginative  man,  for  his  curse  or 
his  blessing,  is  endowed,  were  vibrating  from  head  to  foot. 
Her  words  sang  in  his  ears :  "  Why  should  you  care  so 
much  about  what  I  am  and  what  I  am  not  ?  "  The  real 
answer  burst  passionately  from  his  heart. 

He  had  lain  there  for  about  half  an  hour  when  a  gay 
Mttle  laugh  aroused  him. 

"  You  idyllic  creature  !  " 


Norma's  Enlightenment 

It  was  Connie  Deering,  bewitchingly  apparelled,  a  dainty, 
smiling  pale  yellow  butterfly,  holding  as  usual  an  absurd 
parasol  over  her  head. 

"  I  have  been  looking  for  you  all  over  the  place,"  she 
remarked.  "  They  told  me  you  were  somewhere  about 
the  grounds.  May  I  sit  down  ? " 

He  made  room  for  her  on  the  rug,  and  taking  the  parasol 
from  her  hand,  closed  it.  She  settled  herself  gracefully  by 
his  side. 

"  I  repeat  I  have  been  looking  for  you,"  she  said. 

u  The  overpowering  sense  of  honour  done  me  has  de- 
prived me  of  speech,"  replied  Jimmie,  with  an  attempted 
return  to  his  light-hearted  manner. 

"  Norma  is  entertaining  those  dreadful  Spencer-Temples," 
said  Mrs.  Deering,  irrelevantly. 

"  I  must  have  had  a  premonition  of  their  terrors,  for  I  fled 
from  before  their  path,"  he  said.  "  After  all,  poor  people, 
what  have  they  done  to  be  called  names  ?  "  he  added. 

"They  are  ugly." 

"  So  am  I,  yet  people  don't  run  away  from  me." 

"  I  saw  you  run  away  from  them,"  she  said  with  a  sig- 
nificant nod.  "  I  was  at  my  bedroom  window.  They 
spoiled  a  most  interesting  little  conversation." 

Jimmie  was  startled.  He  looked  at  her  keenly,  but  only 
met  laughing  eyes. 

"  They  interrupted  me  certainly.  But  I  could  n't  have 
inflicted  my  society  on  Miss  Hardacre  all  the  afternoon." 

"  You  would  have  liked  to,  would  n't  you  ?  Jimmie 
dear,"  she  said  with  a  change  of  tone,  "  I  want  to  have  a 
talk  with  you.  I  'm  the  oldest  woman  friend  you  have  —  " 

"  And  by  far  the  sweetest  and  kindest  and  prettiest  and 
fascinatingest." 

'53 


Where  Love  Is 

She  tapped  his  hand  with  her  fingers.  "  Ssh !  I  'm 
serious,  awfully  serious.  I  've  never  been  so  serious  in 
my  life  before.  I  Ve  got  a  duty.  I  don't  often  have  it, 
but  when  I  do,  it's  a  terrible  matter." 

"You  had  better  go  and  have  it  extracted  at  once, 
Connie,"  he  laughed,  determined  to  keep  the  talk  in  a 
frivolous  channel.  But  the  little  lady  was  determined 
also. 

"Jimmie  dear,"  she  said,  holding  up  her  forefinger,  "I 
am  afraid  you  are  running  into  danger.  I  want  to  warn 
you.  An  old  friend  can  do  that,  can't  she  ?  " 

"  You  can  say  anything  you  like  to  me,  Connie.  But  I 
don't  know  what  you  mean." 

He  suspected  her  meaning,  however,  only  too  shrewdly, 
and  his  heart  beat  with  apprehension.  Had  he  been  fool 
enough  to  betray  his  secret  ? 

"  Are  n't  you  getting  just  a  little  too  fond  of  Norma, 
Jimmie  ?  " 

"  I  could  n't  get  too  fond  of  her,"  he  said,  "  seeing 
that  she  is  to  be  Morland's  wife." 

"  That 's  just  why  you  must  n't.  Come,  Jimmie, 
have  n't  you  fallen  a  bit  in  love  with  her  ? " 

"  No,"  he  said  with  some  heat.  "  Certainly  not.  How 
dare  I  ? " 

Kindness  and  teasing  were  in  her  eyes. 

"  My  poor  dear  husband  used  to  say  I  had  the  brain  of  a 
bird,  but  I  may  have  the  sharp  eyes  of  a  bird  as  well. 
Come — not  just  one  little  bit  in  love?" 

She  had  sought  him  with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world. 
She  had  long  suspected ;  yesterday  and  to-day  had  given 
her  certainty.  She  would  put  him  on  his  guard,  talk  to 
him  like  an  elder  sister,  pour  forth  upon  him  her  vast 

154 


Norma's  Enlightenment 

wisdom  in   affairs  of  the   heart,  and  finally   persuade  him 
from  his  folly  to  more  sensible  courses. 

"  He  sha'n't  come  to  grief  over  Norma  if  I  can  prevent 
it,"  she  had  said  to  herself. 

And  now,  in  spite  of  her  altruistic  resolve,  she  could  not 
resist  the  pleasure  of  teasing  him.  She  had  done  so  all  her 
life.  Her  method  became  less  elder-sisterly  than  she 
had  intended.  But  she  was  miles  from  realising  that  she 
touched  bare  nerves,  and  that  the  man  was  less  a  man  than 
a  living  pain. 

"  I  tell  you  I  'm  not  in  love  with  her,  Connie,"  he  said. 
"  How  could  I  dream  of  loving  her?  It  would  be  damna- 
ble folly." 

"  Oh,  Jimmie,  Jimmie,"  she  said,  enjoying  his  confusion,, 
"  what  a  miserably  poor  liar  you  make  —  and  what  a  pre- 
cious time  you  would  have  in  the  witness-box  if  you  were 
a  co-respondent !  You  can't  deceive  for  nuts.  You  had 
better  confess  and  have  done  with  it."  Then  seeing  some- 
thing of  the  anguish  on  his  face,  she  bethought  her  of  the 
serious  aspect  of  her  mission.  "I  could  not  bear  you  to 
break  your  heart  over  Norma,  dear,"  she  said  quite  softly. 

"Don't  madden  me,  Connie — you  don't  know  what 
you  are  saying,"  he  muttered  below  his  breath. 

Connie  Deering  had  never  heard  a  man  speak  in  agony 
of  spirit.  Her  lot  had  fallen  among  pleasant  places,  where 
life  was  a  smooth,  shaven  lawn  and  emotions  not  more 
violent  than  the  ripples  on  a  piece  of  ornamental  water. 
His  tone  gave  her  a  sudden  fright. 

"  You  do  love  her,  then  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"Yes,"  said  Jimmie,  drawing  himself  up  in  a  tight, 
awkward  heap  on  the  slope.  "  My  God,  yes,  I  do  love 
her.  I  love  her  with  every  fibre  of  brain  and  body." 


Where  Love  Is 

The  words  were  out.  More  came.  He  could  not 
restrain  them.  He  gave  up  the  attempt,  surrendered  him- 
self to  the  drunkenness  of  his  passion,  poured  out  a  tor- 
rent of  riotous  speech.  What  he  said  he  knew  not. 
Such  divine  madness  comes  to  a  man  but  few  times  in  a 
life.  The  sweet-hearted,  frivolous  woman,  sitting  there 
in  the  trim  little  paradise  of  green,  with  its  velvet  turf  and 
trim  slopes,  and  tall  mask  of  trees,  all  mellow  in  the  shade 
of  the  soft  September  afternoon,  listened  to  him  with 
wondering  eyes  and  pale  cheeks.  It  was  no  longer  Jimmie 
of  the  homely  face  that  was  talking ;  he  was  transfigured. 
Hrs  very  voice  had  changed  its  quality.  .  .  .  Did  he  love 
her  ?  The  word  was  inept  in  its  inadequacy.  He  wor- 
shipped her  like  a  Madonna.  He  adored  her  like  a  queen. 
He  loved  her  as  the  man  of  hot  blood  loves  a  woman. 
Soul  and  heart  and  body  clamoured  for  her.  Compared 
with  hers,  every  other  woman's  beauty  was  a  glow-worm 
unto  lightning.  Her  voice  haunted  him  like  music  heard 
in  sleep.  Her  presence  left  a  fragrance  behind  that  clouded 
his  senses  like  incense.  Her  beauty  twined  itself  into 
every  tendril  of  every  woman's  hair  he  painted,  stole 
into  the  depths  of  every  woman's  eyes.  It  was  a  divine 
obsession. 

"  You  must  fight  against  it,"  Connie  whispered  tone- 
lessly. 

u  Why  should  I  ?  Who  is  harmed  ?  Norma  ?  Who 
will  tell  her  ?  Not  I.  If  I  choose  to  fill  my  life  with  her 
splendour,  what  is  that  to  any  one  ?  The  desire  of  the 
moth  for  the  star !  Who  heeds  the  moth  ?  " 

He  went  on  reckless  of  speech  until  his  passion  had 
spent  itself.  Then  he  could  only  repeat  in  a  broken 
way  : 

156 


Norma's  Enlightenment 

"  Love  her  ?  Heaven  knows  I  love  her.  My  soul  is  a 
footstool  for  her  to  rest  her  feet  upon." 

Connie  Deering  laid  her  hand  on  his. 

"I'm  sorry.  Oh,  I 'm  sorry,  Jimmie.  God  bless  you, 
dear." 

He  raised  the  hand  to  his  lips.  Neither  spoke.  He 
plucked  at  the  grass  by  his  side ;  at  length  he  looked  up. 

"  You  won't  give  me  away,  will  you  ? "  he  said  with  a 
smile,  using  her  dialect. 

She  went  on  her  knees  and  clasped  both  his  wrists.  She 
said  the  first  thing  that  came,  as  something  sacred,  into  her 
head. 

"  I  could  no  more  speak  of  this  to  any  one  than  of  some 
of  my  dead  husband's  kisses." 

"  I  know  you  are  a  good  true  woman,  Connie,"  he  said. 

In  the  silence  that  followed,  Norma,  who  had  come 
to  summon  Connie  to  tea  (the  Spencer-Temples  having 
called  on  their  drive  past  the  gates  merely  to  deliver  a 
message),  and  hearing  the  voice  behind  the  hedge  had  been 
compelled  against  her  will  to  listen  —  Norma,  deadly  white, 
shaken  to  the  roots  of  her  being,  crept  across  the  tennis 
lawn  and  fled  in  swaying  darkness  to  her  room. 


Chapter    XIII 

THE   OPTIMIST   AT   LARGE 

CONNIE  DEERING  walked  back  to  the  house 
with  a  silent  and  still  tremulous  Jimmie.  She 
had  slid  her  hand  through  his  arm,  and  now  and 
then  gave  it  an  affectionate  pat.  Within  the  limitations 
of  her  light,  gay  nature  she  was  a  sympathetic  and  loyal 
woman,  and  she  had  loved  Jimmie  for  many  years  with 
the  unquestioning  fondness  that  one  has  for  a  beloved  and 
satisfying  domestic  animal.  She  had  recovered  from  the 
fright  his  frantic  demonstration  had  caused  her,  and  her 
easy  temperament  had  shaken  off  the  little  chill  of  solemnity 
that  had  accompanied  her  vow  of  secrecy.  But  she  pitied 
him  with  all  her  kind  heart,  and  in  herself  felt  agreeably 
sentimental. 

They  strolled  slowly  into  the  hall,  and  paused  for  a 
moment  before  parting. 

"  When  you  come  to  think  of  it  seriously,  you  won't 
consider  I  have  made  too  impossible  a  fool  of  myself  ?  " 
he  asked  with  an  apologetic  smile. 

"  I  promise,"  she  said  affectionately.  Then  she  laughed. 
Not  only  was  Jimmie's  smile  contagious,  but  Connie 
Deering  could  not  face  the  pleasant  world  for  more  than 
an  hour  without  laughter. 

"I  have  always  said  you  were  a  dear,  Jimmie,  and  you 
are.  I  almost  wish  I  could  kiss  you." 

158 


The  Optimist  at  Large 

Jimmie  looked  around.     They  were  quite  unperceived. 

"  I  do  quite,"  he  said,  and  kissed  her  on  the  cheek. 

u  Now  we  are  really  brother  and  sister,"  she  said  with  a 
flush.  "  You  are  not  going  to  be  too  unhappy,  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  ?  Oh  no,  not  I,"  he  replied  heartily.  He  repeated 
this  asseveration  to  himself  while  dressing  for  dinner. 
Why  indeed  should  he  be  unhappy  ?  Had  he  not  looked 
a  few  hours  before  at  God's  earth  and  found  that  it  was 
good  ?  Besides,  to  add  to  the  common  stock  of  the 
world's  unhappiness  were  a  crime.  "  Yes,  a  crime,"  he 
said  aloud,  with  a  vigorous  pull  at  his  white  tie.  Then 
he  perceived  that  it  was  hopelessly  mangled,  and  wished 
for  Aline,  who  usually  conducted  that  part  of  the  ceremony 
of  his  toilette. 

"  It  will  have  to  do,"  he  said  cheerfully,  as  he  turned 
away  from  the  glass. 

Yet,  for  all  his  philosophising,  he  was  surprised  at  the 
relief  that  his  wild  confession  to  Connie  had  afforded  him. 
The  burden  that  had  seemed  too  heavy  for  him  to  bear 
had  now  grown  magically  light.  He  attributed  the  phenom- 
enon to  Connie  Deering,  to  the  witchery  of  her  sweet 
sympathy  and  the  comfort  of  her  sisterly  kiss.  By  the 
time  he  had  finished  dressing  the  acute  pain  of  the  past 
two  days  had  vanished,  and  as  he  went  down  the  stairs  he 
aceounted  himself  a  happy  man.  In  the  drawing-room  he 
met  Norma,  and  chatted  to  her  almost  light-heartedly. 
He  did  not  notice  the  constraint  in  her  manner,  her  avoid- 
ance of  his  glance,  the  little  pucker  of  troubled  brows ; 
nor  was  he  aware  of  her  sigh  of  relief  when  the  door  opened 
and  the  servant  announced  Mr.  Theodore  Weever,  who 
with  one  or  two  other  people  were  dining  at  the  house. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hardacre  followed  on  the  American's  heels, 

159 


Where  Love  Is 

and  soon  the  rest  of  the  party  had  assembled.  Jimmie 
had  no  opportunity  for  further  talk  with  Norma,  who 
studiously  kept  apart  from  him  all  the  evening,  and  dur- 
ing dinner  devoted  herself  to  subacid  conversation  with 
Morland  and  to  a  reckless  interchange  of  cynical  banter 
with  Weever.  Jimmie,  talking  with  picturesque  fancy 
about  his  student  days  in  the  Rue  Bonaparte  to  his 
neighbour,  a  frank  fox-hunting  and  sport-loving  young 
woman,  never  dreamed  of  the  chaos  of  thoughts  and  feelings 
that  whirled  behind  the  proud  face  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
table ;  and  Norma,  when  her  mind  now  and  then  worked 
lucidly,  wondered  at  the  strength  and  sweetness  of  the 
man  who  could  subdue  such  passion  and  laugh  with  a 
gaiety  so  honest  and  sincere.  For  herself,  Theodore 
Weever,  with  his  icy  humour  that  crystallised  her  own 
irony  into  almost  deadly  wit,  was  her  sole  salvation  during 
the  interminable  meal.  Once  Morland,  listening  with  ad- 
miration, whispered  in  her  ear : 

"  I  've  never  heard  you  in  such  good  form." 
She  had  to  choke  down  an  hysterical  impulse  of  laughter 
and  swallow  a  mouthful  of  champagne.  Later,  when  the 
women  guests  had  gone,  she  slipped  up  to  her  room  with- 
out saying  good-night  to  Morland,  and,  dismissing  her 
maid,  as  she  had  done  the  night  before,  sat  for  a  long 
time,  holding  her  head  in  her  hands,  vainly  seeking  to  rid 
it  of  words  that  seemed  to  have  eaten  into  her  brain. 
And  when  she  thought  of  Morland,  of  last  night,  of  her 
humiliation,  she  flushed  hot  from  hair  to  feet.  She  was 
only  five-and-twenty,  and  the  world  had  not  as  yet  com- 
pleted its  work  of  hardening.  It  was  a  treacherous  and 
deceitful  world  ;  she  had  prided  herself  on  being  a  finished 
product  of  petrifaction,  and  here  she  lay,  scorched  and 

1 60 


The  Optimist  at  Large 

bewildered,  like  any  soft  and  foolish  girl  who  had  been 
suddenly  brought  too  near  the  flame  of  life.  Keenly  she 
felt  the  piteousness  of  her  defeat.  In  what  it  exactly  con- 
sisted she  did  not  know.  She  was  only  conscious  of 
broken  pride,  the  shattering  of  the  little  hard-faced  gods  in 
her  temple,  the  tearing  up  of  the  rails  upon  which  she  had 
reckoned  to  travel  to  her  journey's  end.  Hers  was  a  con- 
fused soul  state,  devoid  of  immediate  purpose.  A  breach 
of  her  engagement  with  Morland  did  not  occur  to  her 
mind,  and  Jimmie  was  merely  an  impersonal  utterer  of 
volcanic  words.  She  slept  but  little.  In  the  morning  she 
found  habit  by  her  bedside  ;  she  clothed  herself  therein 
and  faced  the  day. 

Much  was  expected  of  her.  The  great  garden-party 
was  to  take  place  that  afternoon.  Her  Serene  Highness 
the  Princess  of  Herren-Rothbeck  had  signified  that  she 
would  do  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hardacre  the  honour  of  being 
present.  Her  Grace  the  Duchess  of  Wiltshire  would  ac- 
company the  princess.  The  ban  and  arriere-ban  of  the 
county  had  been  invited,  and  the  place  would  be  filled  with 
fair  women  agog  to  bask  in  the  smiles  of  royalty,  and 
ill-tempered  men  dragged  away  from  their  partridges  by 
ambitious  wives.  A  firm  of  London  caterers  had  con- 
tracted for  the  refreshments.  A  military  band  would  play 
on  the  terrace.  A  clever  French  showman  whom  Provi- 
dence had  sent  to  cheer  the  dying  hours  of  the  London 
season,  and  had  kept  during  the  dead  months  at  a  variety 
theatre,  was  coming  down  with  an  authentic  Guignol.  He 
had  promised  the  choicest  pieces  in  his  repertoire  —  la  vraie 
grivoiserie  fran$aise  —  and  men  who  had  got  wind  of  the 
proposed  entertainment  winked  at  one  another  wickedly. 
The  garden-party  was  to  be  an  affair  of  splendour  worthy 
«  161 


Where  Love  Is 

of  the  royal  lady  who  had  deigned  to  shed  her  serenity  upon 
the  county  families  assembled;  and  Mr.  Hardacre  had  raised 
a  special  sum  of  money  to  meet  the  expenses. 

"  I  shall  have  to  go  to  the  Jews,  my  dear,"  he  had  said  to 
his  wife  when  they  were  first  discussing  ways  and  means. 

"  Oh,  go  to  the  —  Jews  then,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre, 
almost  betrayed,  in  her  irritation,  into  an  unwifely  retort. 
"  What  does  it  matter,  what  does  any  sacrifice  matter,  when 
once  we  have  royalty  at  the  house  ?  You  are  such  a  fool, 
Benjamin." 

He  had  a  singular  faculty  for  arousing  the  waspishness 
of  his  wife  ;  yet,  save  on  rare'occasions,  he  was  the  meek- 
est of  men  in  her  presence. 

"  Well,  you  know  best,  Eliza,"  he  said. 

"  I  have  n't  been  married  to  you  for  six-and-twenty  years 
without  being  perfectly  certain  of  that,"  she  replied  tartly. 

So  Mr.  Hardacre  went  to  the  Jews,  and  the  princess 
promised  to  come  to  Mrs.  Hardacre. 

Norma  was  not  the  only  one  that  morning  who  was 
aroused  to  a  sense  of  responsibility.  The  footman  entering 
Jimmie's  bedroom  brought  with  him  a  flat  cardboard  box 
neatly  addressed  in  Aline's  handwriting.  The  box  contained 
a  new  shirt,  two  new  collars,  a  new  silk  tie,  and  a  pair  of 
grey  suede  gloves  ;  also  a  letter  from  Aline  instructing  him 
as  to  the  use  of  these  various  articles  of  attire. 

11  Be  sure  to  wear  your  frock-coat,"  wrote  the  director 
of  Jimmie's  conduct.  "I  wish  you  had  one  less  than  six 
years  old  ;  but  I  went  over  it  with  benzine  and  ammonia 
before  I  packed  it  up,  so  perhaps  it  won't  be  so  bad.  And 
wear  your  patent-leather  evening  shoes.  They  '11  look  quite 
smart  if  you  '11  tie  the  laces  up  tight,  and  stick  the  ends  in 
between  the  shoe  and  the  sock.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  come 

162 


The  Optimist  at  Large 

and  turn  you  out  decently  !  and  please^  Jimmie  dear,  don't 
cut  yourself  shaving  and  go  about  all  day  with  a  ridiculous 
bit  of  cotton  wool  on  your  dear  chin.  Tony  says  you 
need  n't  wear  the  frock-coat,  but  I  know  better.  What 
acquaintance  has  he  with  princesses  and  duchesses  ?  And 
that  reminds  me  to  tell  you  that  Tony  —  "  et  ctetera,  et  ctetera, 
in  a  manner  that  brought  the  kindest  smile  in  the  world 
into  Jimmie's  eyes. 

He  dressed  with  scrupulous  regard  to  directions,  but  not 
in  the  frock-coat.  He  had  a  morning  sitting  with  the 
princess  at  Chiltern  Towers  to  get  through  before  airing 
himself  in  the  splendour  of  benzine  and  ammonia.  He  put 
on  his  old  tweed  jacket  and  went  downstairs.  Morland 
was  the  only  person  as  yet  in  the  breakfast-room.  He  held 
a  morning  paper  tight  in  his  hand,  and  stared  through  the 
window,  his  back  to  the  door.  On  Jimmie's  entrance  he 
started  round,  and  Jimmie  saw  by  a  harassed  face  that 
something  had  happened. 

"  My  dear  fellow  —  "   he  began  in  alarm. 

Morland  smoothed  out  the  paper  with  nervous  fingers, 
and  threw  it  somewhat  ostentatiously  on  a  chair.  Then  he 
walked  to  the  table  and  poured  himself  out  some  tea.  The 
handle  of  the  silver  teapot  slid  in  his  grasp,  and  awkwardly 
trying  to  save  the  pouring  flood  of  liquid,  he  dropped  the 
teapot  among  the  cups  and  saucers.  It  was  a  disaster,  but 
one  that  could  have  been  adequately  greeted  by  a  simpler 
series  of  expletives.  He  cursed  vehemently. 

"  What 's  the  matter,  man  ?  "  asked  Jimmie. 

Morland  turned  violently  upon  him. 

"  The  very  devil 's  the  matter.  There  never  was  such 
a  mess  since  the  world  began.  What  an  infernal  fool  I 
have  been  !  You  do  well  to  steer  clear  of  women." 


Where  Love  Is 

"  Tell  me  what 's  wrong  and  I  may  be  able  to  help  you." 

Morland  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  in  gloomy  doubt. 
Then  he  shook  his  head. 

u  You  can't  help  me.  I  thought  you  could,  but  you 
can't.  It 's  a  matter  for  a  lawyer.  I  must  run  up  to 
town." 

"  And  cut  the  garden-party  ?  " 

"  That 's  where  I  'm  tied,"  exclaimed  Morland,  impa- 
tiently. "  I  ought  to  start  now,  but  if  I  cut  the  garden-party 
the  duchess  would  never  forgive  me —  and  by  Jove,  I  may 
need  the  duchess  more  than  ever  —  and  I  've  got  a  meeting 
to  attend  in  Cosford  this  morning  to  which  a  lot  of  people 
are  coming  from  a  distance." 

44  Can't  I  interview  the  lawyer  for  you  ? " 

"No.     I  must  do  it  myself." 

The  butler  entered  and  looked  with  grave  displeasure  at 
the  wreckage  on  the  tea-tray.  While  he  was  repairing  the 
disaster,  Morland  went  back  to  the  window  and  Jimmie 
stood  by  his  side. 

"  If  you  fight  it  through  squarely,  it  will  all  come  right 
in  the  end." 

u  You  don't  mind  my  not  telling  you  about  it  ?  "  said 
Morland,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Why  should  I  ?  In  everything  there  is  a  time  for 
silence  and  a  time  for  speech." 

"  You  're  right,"  said  Morland,  thrusting  his  hands  into 
his  trousers'  pockets ;  "  but  how  I  am  to  get  through  this 
accursed  day  in  silence  I  don't  know." 

They  sat  down  to  breakfast.  Morland  rejected  the  offer 
of  tea,  and  called  for  a  whisky  and  soda  which  he  nsarly 
drained  at  a  gulp.  Mr.  Hardacre  came  in,  and  eyed  the 
Jong  glass  indulgently. 

164 


The  Optimist  at  Large 

"  Bucking  yourself  up,  eh  ?  Why  did  n't  you  ask  for  a 
pint  of  champagne  ?  " 

He  opened  the  newspaper  and  ran  through  the  pages. 
Morland  watched  him  with  swift  nervous  glances,  and 
uttered  a  little  gasp  of  relief  when  he  threw  it  aside  and 
attacked  his  grilled  kidneys.  His  own  meal  was  soon  over. 
Explaining  that  he  had  papers  to  work  at  in  the  library, 
he  hurried  out  of  the  room. 

"  Can't  understand  a  man  being  so  keen  on  these  con- 
founded politics,"  his  host  remarked  to  Jimmie  across  the 
table.  A  polite  commonplace  was  all  that  could  be  expected 
in  reply.  Politics  were  engrossing. 

"  That 's  the  worst  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Hardacre.  "  In  the 
good  old  days  a  man  could  take  his  politics  like  a  gentle- 
man ;  now  he  has  got  to  go  at  them  like  a  damned 
blaspheming  agitator  on  a  tub." 

"  Cosford  was  once  a  pretty  little  pocket  borough, 
was  n't  it  ?  "  said  Jimmie.  u  Now  Trade's  unfeeling  train 
usurp  the  privileges  of  His  Grace  of  Wiltshire  and  threaten 
to  dispossess  his  nominee.  Instead  of  one  simple  shepherd 
recording  his  pastoral  vote  we  have  an  educated  electorate 
daring  to  exercise  their  discretion." 

Mr.  Hardacre  looked  at  Jimmie  askance;  he  always 
regarded  an  allusive  style  with  suspicion,  as  if  it  necessarily 
harboured  revolutionary  theories. 

"I  hope  you're  not  one  of  those  —  "  He  checked  him- 
self as  he  was  going  to  say  "  low  radical  fellows."  Politeness 
forbade.  "  I  hope  you  are  not  a  radical,  Mr.  Padgate  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  quite  know,"  replied  Jimmie, 
cheerfully. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Mr.  Hardacre,  "  I   believe  you  are." 

Jimmie  laughed;  but  Mr.  Hardacre  felt  that  he  held 

165 


Where  Love  Is 

the  key  to  the  eccentric  talk  of  his  guest.  Jimmie  Padgate 
was  a  radical ;  a  fearful  wildfowl  of  unutterable  proclivities, 
to  whom  all  things  dreadful  were  possible. 

"  I,"  he  continued,  "  am  proud  to  be  a  Tory  of  the  old 
school." 

The  entrance  of  the  ladies  put  a  stop  to  the  distressful 
conversation. 

Jimmie,  whose  life  during  the  past  few  days  had  been  a 
curious  compound  of  sunshine  and  shadow,  went  about 
his  morning's  work  with  only  Morland's  troubles  weighing 
upon  him.  Of  their  specific  nature  he  had  no  notion;  he 
knew  they  had  to  do  with  the  unhappy  love  affair;  but 
as  Morland  was  going  to  put  matters  into  the  hands  of  his 
lawyers,  a  satisfactory  solution  was  bound  to  be  discovered. 
Like  all  simple-minded  men,  he  had  illimitable  faith  in  the 
powers  of  solicitors  and  physicians ;  it  was  their  business 
to  get  people  out  of  difficulties,  and  if  they  were  capable 
men  they  did  their  business.  Deriving  much  comfort  from 
this  fallacy,  he  thought  as  little  as  might  be  about  the 
matter.  In  fact  he  quite  enjoyed  his  morning.  He  sat 
before  his  easel  at  the  end  of  a  high  historic  gallery,  the 
bright  morning  light  that  streamed  in  through  the  windows 
tempered  by  judiciously  arranged  white  blinds  ;  and  down 
the  vista  were  great  paintings,  and  rare  onyx  tables,  and 
priceless  chairs  and  statuary,  all  harmonising  with  the 
stately  windows  and  painted  ceiling  and  polished  floor. 
In  front  of  him,  posed  in  befitting  attitude,  sat  the  royal 
lady,  with  her  most  urbane  expression  upon  her  features, 
and,  that  which  pleased  him  most,  the  picture  was  just 
emerging  from  the  blurred  mass  of  paint,  an  excellent 
though  somewhat  idealised  portrait.  So  he  worked  un- 
falteringly with  the  artist's  joy  in  the  consciousness  of 

1 66 


The  Optimist  at  Large 

successful  efforts,  and  his  good-humour  infected  even  his 
harsh  sitter,  who  now  and  then  showed  a  wintry  gleam 
of  gaiety,  and  uttered  a  guttural  word  of  approbation. 

"  You  shall  come  to  Herren-Rothbeck  and  baint  the 
bortrait  of  the  brince  my  brother,"  she  said  graciously. 
"  Would  that  blease  you  ?  " 

"  I  should  just  think  it  would,"  said  Jimmie. 

The  princess  laughed  —  a  creaking,  rusty  laugh,  but 
thoroughly  well  intentioned.  Jimmie  glanced  at  her 
enquiringly. 

*' I  like  you,"  she  responded.  "You  are  so  natural  — 
what  you  English  call  refreshing.  A  German  would  have 
made  a  ceremonious  speech  as  long  as  your  mahl-stick." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must  learn  ceremony  before  I  come  to 
court,  Madam,"  said  Jimmie. 

"  If  you  do,  you  will  have  forgotten  how  to  baint  bor- 
traits,"  said  the  princess. 

Thus,  under  the  sun  of  princely  favour,  was  Jimmie 
proceeding  on  the  highroad  to  fortune.  Never  had  the 
future  seemed  so  bright.  His  bombastic  jest  about  being 
appointed  painter  in  ordinary  to  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe 
was  actually  going  to  turn  out  a  reality.  He  lost  himself 
in  daydreams  of  inexhaustible  coffers  from  which  he  could 
toss  gold  in  lapfuls  to  Aline.  She  should  indeed  walk  in 
silk  attire,  and  set  up  housekeeping  with  Tony  in  a  mansion 
in  Park  Lane. 

On  the  front  lawn  at  Heddon  Court  he  met  Connie  and 
waved  his  hat  in  the  air.  She  went  to  him,  and,  peering 
into  his  smiling  face,  laid  her  hand  on  his  sleeve. 

"  Whatever  has  happened  ?  Have  vou  two  stepped  into 
each  other's  shoes  ?  ** 

"  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ? 
167 


"  You  know  —  Norma." 

"My  dear  Connie  — "  he  began. 

41  Well,  it  seemed  natural.  Here  are  you  as  happy  as 
an  emperor ;  and  there  is  Morland  come  back  from  Cosford 
with  the  look  of  a  hunted  criminal." 


168 


Chapter    XIV 
THE   BUBBLE    REPUTATION 

THE  princess  had  the  affability  to  inform  Mrs. 
Hardacre  that  it  was  a  "  charming  baity,"  and 
Mrs.  Hardacre  felt  that  she  had  not  lived  in  vain. 
Henceforth  she  would  be  of  the  innermost  circle  of  the 
elect  of  the  county.  Exclusive  front  doors  would  open 
respectfully  to  her.  She  would  be  consulted  on  matters 
appertaining  to  social  polity.  She  would  be  a  personage. 
She  would  also  make  her  neighbour,  Lady  FitzHubert,  sick 
with  envy.  A  malignant  greenness  on  that  lady's  face  she 
noted  with  a  thrill  of  pure  happiness,  and  she  smilingly 
frustrated  all  her  manoeuvres  to  get  presented  to  Her 
Serene  Highness.  She  presented  her  rival,  instead,  to 
Jimmie. 

"My  dear  Lady  FitzHubert,  let  me  introduce  Mr. 
Padgate,  who  is  painting  the  dear  princess's  portrait. 
Mr.  Padgate  is  staying  with  us." 

Whereby  Mrs.  Hardacre  conveyed  the  impression  that 
Heddon  Court  and  Chiltern  Towers  contained  just  one 
family  party,  the  members  of  which  ran  in  and  out  of  either 
house  indiscriminately.  It  may  be  mentioned  that  Jimmie 
did  not  get  on  particularly  well  with  Lady  FitzHubert. 
He  even  confided  afterwards  to  Connie  Deering  his  sus- 
picion that  now  and  again  members  of  the  aristocracy  were 
lacking  in  true  urbanity. 

169 


Where  Love  Is 

By  declaring  the  garden-party  to  be  charming  the  prin- 
cess only  did  justice  to  the  combined  efforts  of  the  Hardacres 
and  Providence.  The  warm  golden  weather  and  the  chance 
of  meeting  august  personages  had  brought  guests  from  far 
and  near.  The  lawns  were  bright  with  colour  and  resonant 
with  talk.  A  red-coated  band  played  on  the  terrace. 
Between  the  items  of  music,  Guignol,  housed  in  the  Greek 
temple,  with  the  portico  for  a  proscenium,  performed  his 
rogueries  to  the  delight  of  hastily  assembling  audiences. 
Immediately  below,  a  long  white-covered  table  gleamed 
with  silver  tea-urns  and  china,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of 
refreshments.  At  the  other  end  of  the  lawn  sat  the  august 
personages  surrounded  by  the  elect. 

Among  these  was  Morland.  But  for  him  neither  blue 
September  skies  nor  amiable  duchesses  had  any  charm. 
To  the  man  of  easy  living  had  come  the  sudden  shock  of 
tragedy,  and  the  music  and  the  teacups  and  the  flatteries 
seemed  parts  of  a  ghastly  farce.  The  paragraph  he  had 
read  in  the  paper  that  morning  obsessed  him.  The  hours 
had  seemed  one  long  shudder  against  which  he  vainly 
braced  his  nerves.  He  had  loved  the  poor  girl  in  his  facile 
way.  The  news  in  itself  was  enough  to  bring  him  face  to 
face  with  elementals.  But  there  was  another  terror  added. 
The  chance  word  of  a  laughing  woman  had  put  him  on  the 
rack  of  anxiety.  Getting  out  of  the  train  at  Cosford,  she 
had  seen  the  queerest  figure  of  a  man  step  on  to  the  plat- 
form, with  the  face  of  Peter  the  Hermit  and  the  costume  of 
Mr.  Stiggins.  Morland's  first  impulse  had  been  to  retreat 
precipitately  from  Cosford,  and  take  the  next  train  to  Lon- 
don, whither  he  ought  to  have  gone  that  morning.  The 
tradition-bred  Englishman's  distaste  for  craven  flight  kept 
him  irresolutely  hanging  round  the  duchess.  He  thought 

170 


The  Bubble  Reputation 

of  whispering  a  private  word  to  Jimmie ;  but  Jimmie  was 
far  away,  being  introduced  here  and  there,  apparently  en- 
joying considerable  popularity.  Besides,  the  whisper  would 
involve  the  tale  of  the  newspaper  paragraph,  and  Morland 
shrank  from  confiding  such  news  to  Jimmie.  No  one  on 
earth  must  know  it  save  his  legal  adviser,  an  impersonal 
instrument  of  protection.  He  did  what  he  had  done  once 
during  five  horrible  weeks  at  Oxford,  when  an  Abingdon 
barmaid  threatened  him  with  a  breach  of  promise  action. 
He  did  nothing  and  trusted  to  luck.  Happy  chance 
brought  to  light  the  fact  that  she  was  already  married. 
Happy  chance  might  save  him  again. 

Beyond  the  mere  commonplaces  of  civility  he  had  ex- 
changed no  words  that  day  with  Norma.  Moved  by  an 
irritating  feeling  of  shame  coupled  with  a  certain  repugnance 
of  the  flesh,  he  had  deliberately  avoided  her ;  and  his  pre- 
occupation had  not  allowed  him  to  perceive  that  the 
avoidance  was  reciprocated.  When  they  happened  to  meet 
in  their  movements  among  the  guests,  they  smiled  at  each 
other  mechanically  and  went  their  respective  ways.  Once, 
during  the  afternoon,  Mr.  Hardacre,  red  and  fussy,  took 
him  aside. 

"  I  have  just  heard  a  couple  of  infernal  old  cats  talking 
of  Norma  and  that  fellow  Weever.  There  they  are  together 
now.  Will  you  give  Norma  a  hint,  or  shall  I  ? " 

Morland  looked  up  and  saw  the  pair  on  the  terrace, 
midway  between  the  band  and  the  Guignol  audience. 

"  I  'm  glad  she  has  got  somebody  to  amuse  her,"  he 
said,  turning  away.  He  was  almost  grateful  to  Weever  for 
taking  Norma  off  his  hands. 

Meanwhile  Jimmie  was  continuing  to  find  life  full  of 
agreeable  surprises.  Lady  FitzHubert  was  not  the  only 

171 


Where  Love  is 

lady  to  whom  he  was  presented  as  the  Mr.  Padgate  who 
was  painting  the  princess's  portrait.  Mrs.  Hardacre 
waived  the  personal  grudge,  and  flourished  him  tactfully  in 
the  face  of  the  county  ;  and  the  county  accepted  him  with 
unquestioning  ingenuousness.  He  was  pointed  out  as  a 
notability,  became  the  well-known  portrait-painter,  the 
celebrated  artist,  the  James  Padgate,  and  thus  achieved 
the  bubble  reputation.  A  guest  who  was  surreptitiously 
reporting  the  garden-party  for  the  local  paper  took  eager 
notes  of  the  personal  appearance  of  the  eminent  man-,  and 
being  a  woman  of  the  world,  professed  familiarity  with  his 
works.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  found  himself  a 
person  of  importance.  The  fact  of  his  easy  inclusion  in 
the  charmed  circle  cast  a  glamour  over  the  crudities  of  the 
gala  costume  designed  and  furbished  up  with  so  much  anxious 
thought  by  Aline,  and  people  (who  are  kindly  as  a  rule  when 
their  attention  is  diverted  from  the  trivial)  looked  only  at  his 
face  and  were  attracted  to  the  man  himself.  Only  Lady 
Fitz Hubert,  who  had  private  reasons  for  frigidity,  treated 
him  in  an  unbecoming  manner.  Other  fair  ladies  smiled 
sweetly  upon  him,  and  spread  abroad  tales  of  his  niceness, 
and  thus  helped  in  the  launching  of  him  as  a  fashionable 
portrait-painter  upon  the  gay  world. 

He  had   a  brief  interlude  of  talk  with  Norma  by  the 
refreshment-table. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  being  too  much  bored  by  all  this," 
she  said  in  her  society  manner. 

"  Bored  !  "  he  cried.     "  It 's  delightful." 

"What  about  the  hollow  world   where  imagination  doth 
not  corrupt  and  enthusiasms  do  not  break  in  and  steal  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  phantom  dust-heap  for  inept  epigrams.      I  don't 
believe  it  exists." 

172 


The  Bubble  Reputation 

"You  mustn't  preach  a  gospel  one  day  and  give  it  the 
lie  the  next,"  she  said,  half  seriously;  "for  then  I  won't 
know  what  to  believe.  You  don't  seem  to  realise  your 
responsibilities." 

He  echoed  the  last  word '  in  some  surprise.  Norma 
broke  into  a  little  nervous  laugh. 

"  You  don't  suppose  you  can  go  about  without  affecting 
your  fellow-creatures  ?  It  is  well  that  you  don't  know 
what  a  disturbing  element  you  are." 

She  turned  her  head  away  and  closed  her  eyes  for  a 
second  or  two,  for  the  words  she  had  overheard  there  by 
the  hedge,  last  evening,  rang  in  her  ears.  Perhaps  it  had 
been  well  for  Jimmie  if  he  had  known.  Before  he  had 
time  to  reply,  she  recovered  herself,  and  added  quickly  : 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  enjoying  yourself." 

"  How  can  I  help  it  when  every  one  is  so  kind  to  me  ? " 
he  said  brightly.  "  I  came  down  here  an  obscure  painter, 
a  veritable  pictor  ignotus,  and  all  your  friends  are  as  charm- 
ing to  me  as  if  I  were  the  President  of  the  Royal  Academy." 

Connie  Deering  came  up  with  a  message  for  Norma  and 
carried  her  off  to  the  house. 

"  How  does  Jimmie  like  being  lionised  ?  "  she  asked  on 
the  way. 

Norma  repeated  his  last  speech. 

"  He  has  n't  any  idea  of  the  people's  motives."  She 
added  somewhat  hysterically  : 

"  The  man  is  half  fool,  half  angel  —  " 

"  And  altogether  a  man.  Don't  you  make  any  mistake 
about  that,"  said  Connie,  with  a  pretty  air  of  finality. 
"You  don't  know  as  much  about  him  as  I  do." 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  about  that,"  said  Norma. 

"  I  am,"  said  Connie. 

173 


Where  Love  Is 

Jimmie  was  wandering  away  from  the  refreshment-table 
when  Theodore  Weever  stopped  him. 

"  That 's  a  famous  portrait  of  yours,  Mr.  Padgate.  I 
saw  it  to-day  after  lunch.  I  offer  you  my  congratulations." 

Jimmie  thanked  him,  said  modestly  that  he  hoped  it  was 
a  good  likeness. 

"Too  good  by  a  long  chalk,"  laughed  the  American. 
"  Her  Serene  Skinflint  does  n't  deserve  it.  I  bet  you  she 
beat  you  down  like  a  market-woman  haggling  for  fish." 

Jimmie  stuck  his  hands  on  his  hips  and  laughed. 

"  You  don't  deny  it.  You  should  n't  have  let  her.  She 
is  rolling  in  money." 

"  I  am  afraid  one  does  n't  bother  much  with  the  com- 
mercial side  of  things,"  said  Jimmie. 

"  That 's  where  you  make  the  mistake.  Money  is 
money,  and  it  is  better  in  one's  own  pockets  than  in  any- 
body else's.  But  that's  not  what  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you 
about.  I  wonder  if  you  would  let  me  have  the  pleasure  of 
calling  at  your  studio  some  day  ?  I  'm  collecting  a  few 
pictures,  and  I  should  regard  it  as  a  privilege  to  be  allowed 
to  look  round  yours." 

Jimmie,  having  no  visiting  cards,  scribbled  his  address 
on  the  back  of  an  envelope.  He  would  be  delighted  to 
see  Mr.  Weever  any  time  he  was  passing  through  London. 
Weever  bowed,  and  turned  to  greet  a  passing  acquaintance, 
leaving  a  happy  artist.  A  miracle  had  happened ;  the  star 
of  his  fortunes  had  arisen.  A  week  ago  it  was  below  the 
horizon,  shedding  a  faint,  hopeful  glimmer  in  the  sky. 
Now  it  shone  bright  overhead.  The  days  of  struggle  and 
disappointment  were  over.  He  had  come  into  his  kingdom 
of  recognition.  All  had  happened  to-day  :  the  princess's 
promise  of  another  and  more  illustrious  royal  portrait  j  the 

174 


The  Bubble  Reputation 

sudden  leap  into  fame ;  the  patronage  of  the  American 
financier.  One  has  to  be  the  poor  artist,  with  his  youth  — . 
one  record  of  desperate  endeavour  —  behind  him,  to  know 
what  these  things  mean.  The  delicate  flattery  of  strange 
women,  however  commonplace  or  contemptible  it  may  be 
to  the  successful,  was  a  new,  rare  thing  to  Jimmie  and 
appeased  an  unknown  hunger.  The  prospect  of  good 
work  done  and  delivered  to  the  world,  without  sordid, 
heart-breaking  bargainings,  shimmered  before  him  like  a 
paradise.  Old  habit  made  him  long  for  Aline.  How 
pleased  the  child  would  be  when  she  heard  the  glad  news  ! 
He  saw  the  joy  on  her  bright  face  and  heard  her  clap  her 
hands  together,  and  he  smiled.  He  would  return  to  her  a 
conqueror,  having  won  the  prizes  she  had  so  often  wept 
for  —  name  and  fame  and  fortune.  The  band  was  playing 
the  "  Wedding  March  "  from  "  Lohengrin."  By  chance, 
as  he  was  no  musician,  he  recognised  it. 

"  Aline  shall  have  a  wedding  dress  from  Paris,"  he  said 
half  aloud,  and  he  smiled  again.  The  world  had  never 
been  so  beautiful. 

He  embraced  all  of  it  that  was  visible  in  a  happy,  sweep- 
ing glance.  Then  with  the  swiftness  of  lightning  the  smile 
on  his  face  changed  into  consternation. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  stock  still,  staring  at  the  sudden 
figure  of  a  man.  It  was  Stone,  the  mad  orator  of  Hyde 
Park.  There  was  no  possibility  of  mistaking  him  at  a 
distance  of  fifteen  or  twenty  yards.  He  wore  the  same 
rusty  black  frock-coat  and  trousers,  the  same  dirty  collar 
and  narrow  black  tie,  the  same  shapeless  clerical  hat.  His 
long  neck  above  the  collar  looked  raw  and  scabious  like  a 
vulture's.  In  his  hand  he  carried  a  folded  newspaper.  He 
had  suddenly  emerged  upon  the  end  of  the  terrace  from  the 

I7S 


Where  Love  Is 

front  entrance,  and  was  descending  the  steps  that  led  down 
to  the  tennis  lawn.  If  he  walked  straight  on,  he  would 
come  to  the  group  surrounding  the  princess  and  the 
Duchess  of  Wiltshire.  Two  or  three  people  were  already 
eyeing  him  curiously. 

Morland's  strange  dread  of  the  man  flashed  upon 
Jimmie.  He  hurried  forward  to  meet  him.  Of  what  he 
was  about  to  do  he  had  no  definite  idea.  Perhaps  he  could 
head  Stone  off,  take  him  away  from  the  grounds  on  the 
pretext  of  listening  to  his  grievances.  At  any  rate,  a 
scandal  must  be  avoided.  As  he  drew  near,  he  observed 
Morland,  who  had  been  bending  down  in  conversation 
with  the  duchess,  rise  and  unexpectedly  recognise  Stone. 

A  manservant  bearing  a  small  tray  with  some  teacups 
ran  up  to  the  extraordinary  intruder,  who  waved  him  away 
impatiently.  The  servant  put  down  his  tray  and  caught 
him  by  the  arm. 

"  You  have  no  business  here." 

Stone  shook  himself  free. 

"  I  have.  Where  is  Mr.  Rendell  ?  Tell  him  I  have 
to  speak  with  him." 

"There  is  no  such  person  here,"  said  the  servant.  "  Be 
off!" 

Jimmie  reached  the  spot,  as  a  few  of  the  nearer  guests 
were  beginning  to  take  a  surprised  interest  in  the  alterca- 
tion. Morland  came  forward  from  behind  the  duchess's 
chair  and  cast  a  swift  glance  at  Jimmie. 

"  If  you  don't  go,  I  shall  make  you,"  said  the  ser- 
vant, preparing  to  execute  his  threat.  The  man  looked 
dangerous. 

"  I  must  see  Mr.  David  Rendell,"  he  cried,  beginning 
to  struggle. 

176 


The  Bubble  Reputation 

Jimmie  drew  the  servant  away. 

"I  know  this  gentleman,"  he  said  quietly.  "Mr.  Stone, 
Mr.  Rendell  is  not  here,  but  if  you  will  come  with  me,  I 
will  listen  to  you,  and  tell  him  anything  you  have  to  say." 

Mr.  Hardacre,  who  had  seen  the  scuffle  from  a  distance, 
came  up  in  a  fluster. 

"  What 's  all  this  ?  What 's  all  this  ?  Who  is  this 
creature  ?  Please  go  away."  He  began  to  hustle  the 
man. 

"  Stop  !  He  's  an  acquaintance  of  Padgate's,"  said  Mor- 
land,  huskily. 

There  was  a  short  pause.  Stone  stared  around  at  the 
well-dressed  men  and  women,  at  the  seated  figures  of  the 
princess  and  the  duchess,  at  the  servant  who  had  picked 
up  the  tray,  at  the  band  who  were  still  playing  the  "  Wed- 
ding March  "  from  "  Lohengrin,"  at  the  red-faced,  little, 
blustering  man,  at  the  beautiful  cool  setting  of  green, 
and  the  look  in  his  eyes  was  that  of  one  who  saw  none  of 
these  things.  Morland  edged  to  Jimmie's  side. 

"  For  God's  sake,  get  him  away,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

Jimmie  nodded  and  touched  the  man's  arm. 

"  Come,"  said  he. 

u  Yes,  please  take  him  off" !  What  the  dickens  does  he 
"vant  ?  "  said  Mr.  Hardacre. 

Stone  turned  his  burning  eyes  upon  him. 

"  I  have  come  to  find  an  infamous  seducer,"  he  replied, 
with  a  melodramatic  intensity  that  would  have  been  ludi- 
crous had  his  face  not  been  so  ghastly.  "  His  name  is 
Rendell." 

There  was  a  shiver  of  interest  in  the  crowd. 

"  Was  sagt  er?  "  the  princess  whispered  to  her  neighbour. 
12  I77 


Where  Love  Is 

Jimmie  again  tried  to  lead  Stone  away,  but  the  distraught 
creature  seemed  lost  in  thought  and  looked  at  him  fixedly. 

"  I  have  seen  you  before,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Of  course  you  have,"  said  Jimmie.  "  In  Hyde  Park. 
Don't  you  remember  ?  " 

Suddenly,  with  a  wrench  of  his  hands  he  tore  an  un- 
mounted photograph  from  the  folded  newspaper  and  threw 
it  on  the  ground.  His  eyes  blazed. 

u  I  thought  I  should  find  him.  One  of  you  is  David 
Rendell.  It  is  not  your  real  name.  That  I  know.  Which 
of  you  is  it  ?  " 

Jimmie  had  sprung  upon-  the  photograph.  Instinct 
rather  than  the  evidence  of  sight  told  him  that  it  was  an 
amateur  portrait  of  himself  and  Morland  taken  one  idle 
afternoon  in  the  studio  by  young  Tony  Merewether.  It 
had  hardly  lain  the  fraction  of  a  second  on  the  ground ; 
but  to  Jimmie  it  seemed  as  if  the  two  figures  had  flashed 
clear  upon  the  sight  of  all  the  bystanders.  He  glanced 
quickly  at  Morland,  who  stood  quite  still  now  with  stony 
face  and  averted  eyes.  He  too  had  recognised  the  photo- 
graph, and  he  cursed  himself  for  a  fool  for  having  given  it 
to  the  girl.  He  had  had  it  loose  in  his  pocket ;  she  had 
pleaded  for  it ;  she  had  no  likeness  of  him  at  all.  He  was 
paying  now  for  his  imprudent  folly.  Like  Jimmie,  he 
feared  lest  others  should  have  recognised  the  photograph. 
But  he  trusted  again  to  chance.  Jimmie  had  undertaken 
the  unpleasant  business  and  his  wit  would  possibly  save  the 
situation. 

Jimmie  did  not  hesitate.  A  man  is  as  God  made  him, 
heart  and  brain.  To  his  impulsive  imagination  the  photo- 
graph would  be  proof  positive  for  the  world  that  one  of 
the  two  was  the  infamous  seducer.  It  did  not  occur  to 

178 


The  Bubble  Reputation 

him  to  brazen  the  man  out,  to  send  him  about  his  business ; 
wherein  lies  the  pathos  of  simple-mindedness.  The  deci- 
sive moment  had  come.  To  Morland  exposure  would 
mean  loss  of  career,  and,  as  he  conceived  it,  loss  of  Norma ; 
and  to  the  beloved  woman  it  would  mean  misery  and  heart- 
break. So  he  committed  an  heroic  folly. 

"  Well,  I  am  Rendell,"  he  said  in  a  loud  voice.  "  What 
then  ? " 

Heedless  of  shocked  whisperings  and  confused  voices, 
among  which  rose  a  virtuously  indignant  "  Great  heavens  !  " 
from  Mrs.  Hardacre,  he  moved  away  quickly  towards  the 
slope,  motioning  Stone  to  follow.  But  Stone  remained 
where  he  stood,  and  pointed  at  Jimmie  with  lean,  out- 
stretched finger,  and  lifted  up  his  voice  in  crazy  rhetoric, 
which  was  heard  above  the  "  Wedding  March."  No  one 
tried  to  stop  him.  It  was  too  odd,  too  interesting,  too 
dramatic. 

"  The  world  shall  know  the  tale  of  your  lust,  and  the 
sun  shall  not  go  down  upon  your  iniquity.  Under  false 
promises  you  betrayed  the  sweetest  flower  in  God's  garden. 
Basely  you  taunted  her  in  her  hour  of  need.  Murder  and 
suicide  are  on  your  head.  There  is  the  record  for  all  who 
wish  to  read  it.  Read  it,"  he  cried,  flinging  the  newspaper 
at  Mrs.  Hardacre's  feet.  "  Read  how  she  killed  her  new- 
born babe,  the  child  of  this  devil,  and  then  hanged  herself." 

Jimmie  came  two  or  three  steps  forward. 

"  Stop  this  mad  foolery,"  he  cried. 

Stone  glared  at  him  for  a  fraction  of  a  second,  thrust  his 
hand  into  the  breast-pocket  of  his  frock-coat,  drew  out  a 
revolver,  and  shot  him. 

Jimmie  staggered  as  a  streak  of  fire  passed  through  him, 
and  swung  round.  The  women  shrieked  and  rushed  to- 

179 


Where  Love  is 

gether  behind  the  princess  and  the  duchess,  who  remained 
v.almly  seated.  The  men  with  one  impulse  sprang  forward 
to  seize  the  madman ;  but  as  he  leaped  aside  and  threatened 
his  assailants  with  his  revolver,  they  hung  back.  The 
band  stopped  short  in  the  middle  of  a  bar. 

Norma  and  Connie  Deering  and  one  or  two  others  who 
had  been  in  the  house,  unaware  of  the  commotion  of  the 
last  few  minutes,  ran  out  on  the  terrace  as  they  heard  the 
shot  and  the  sudden  cessation  of  the  band.  They  saw 
the  crowd  of  frightened,  nervous  people  below,  and  the 
grotesque  figure  in  his  rusty  black  pointing  the  pistol. 
And  they  saw  Jimmie  march  up  to  him,  and  in  a  dead 
silence  they  heard  him  say : 

"  Give  me  that  revolver.  What  is  a  silly  fool  like  you 
doing  with  fire-arms  ?  You  could  n't  hit  a  haystack  at  a 
yard's  distance.  Give  it  to  me,  I  say." 

The  man's  arm  was  outstretched,  and  the  pistol  was 
aimed  point-blank  at  Jimmie.  Connie  Deering  gripped 
Norma's  arm,  and  Norma,  feeling  faint,  grew  white  to  the 
lips. 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  said  Jimmie  again. 

The  man  wavered,  his  arm  drooped  slightly ;  with  the 
action  of  one  who  takes  a  dangerous  thing  from  a  child, 
Jimmie  quietly  wrenched  the  revolver  from  his  grasp. 

Norma  gave  a  gasp  of  relief  and  began  to  laugh  foolishly. 
Connie  clapped  her  hands  in  excitement. 

"  Did  n't  I  tell  you  he  was  a  man  ?  By  heavens,  the 
only  one  in  the  lot !  " 

Jimmie  pointed  towards  the  terrace  steps. 

"  Go  !  "  he  said. 

But  there  was  a  rush  now  to  seize  the  disarmed  Stone, 
the  red  coats  of  the  bandsmen  mingling  with  the  black  of 

180 


The  Bubble  Reputation 

the  guests.  Jimmie,  with  a  curious  flame  through  his  shoul- 
der and  a  swimming  in  his  head,  swerved  aside.  Morland 
ran  up,  with  a  white  face. 

"  My  God !  He  has  hit  you.  I  thought  he  had 
missed." 

"  No,"  said  Jimmie,  smiling  at  the  reeling  scene.  "  I  'm 
all  right.  Keep  the  photograph.  It  was  silly  to  give  one's 
photograph  away.  I  always  was  a  fool." 

Morland  pocketed  the  unmounted  print.  He  tried  to 
utter  a  word  of  thanks,  but  the  eyes  of  the  scared  and 
scandalised  crowd  a  few  steps  away  were  upon  them,  and 
many  were  listening.  For  a  moment  during  the  mad- 
man's crazy  indictment  of  Jimmie  —  for  the  horrible  facts 
were  only  too  true  —  he  had  had  the  generous  impulse  to 
come  forward  and  at  all  costs  save  his  friend ;  but  he  had 
hesitated.  The  shot  had  been  fired.  The  dramatic  little 
scene  had  followed.  To  proclaim  Jimmie's  innocence  and 
his  own  guilt  now  would  be  an  anticlimax.  It  was  too 
late.  He  would  take  another  opportunity  of  exonerating 
Jimmie.  So  he  stood  helpless  before  him,  and  Jimmie, 
feeling  fainter  and  fainter,  protested  that  he  was  not 
hurt. 

They  stood  a  bit  apart  from  the  rest.  By  this  time  men 
and  women  had  flocked  from  all  quarters,  and  practically 
the  whole  party  had  assembled  on  the  tennis  lawn.  Norma 
still  stood  with  Connie  on  the  terrace,  her  hand  on  her 
heart.  A  small  group  clustered  round  a  man  who  had 
picked  up  the  newspaper  and  was  reading  aloud  the  ghastly 
paragraph  marked  by  Stone  in  blue  pencil.  The  Hard- 
acres  were  wringing  their  hands  before  a  stony-faced 
princess  and  an  indignant  duchess,  who  announced  their 
intention  of  immediate  departure.  Every  one  told  every 

181 


Where  Love  Is 

one  else  the  facts  he  or  she  had  managed  to  gather. 
Human  nature  and  the  morbidly  stimulated  imagination  of 
naturally  unimaginative  people  invented  atrocious  details. 
Jimmie's  new-born  fame  as  a  painter  was  quickly  merged 
into  hideous  notoriety.  His  star  must  have  been  Lucifer, 
so  swift  was  its  fall. 

Mr.  Hardacre  left  his  wife's  side,  and  dragged  Morland  a 
step  or  two  away,  and  whispered  excitedly  : 

"  What  a  scandal !  What  a  hell  of  a  scandal  !  Before 
royalty,  too.  It  will  be  the  death  of  us.  The  damned 
fellow  must  go.  You  must  clear  him  out  of  the  house  ! " 

"  He  's  hit.     Look  at  him^"  exclaimed  Morland. 

Jimmie  heard  his  host's  whisper  in  a  dream.  It  seemed 
a  hoarse  voice  very,  very  far  off.  He  laughed  in  an  idiotic 
way,  waved  his  hand  to  the  gyrating  crowd,  and  stumbled 
a  few  yards  towards  the  slope.  The  world  swam  into  dark- 
ness and  he  fell  heavily  on  his  face. 

Then,  to  the  amazement  of  the  county,  Norma  with  a 
ringing  cry  rushed  down  the  slope,  and  threw  herself  beside 
Jimmie's  body  and  put  his  head  on  her  lap.  And  there 
she  stayed  until  they  dragged  her  away,  uttering  the  queer 
whimpering  exclamations  of  a  woman  suddenly  stricken 
with  great  terror.  She  thought  Jimmie  was  dead. 


182 


Chapter  XV 
MRS.  HARDACRE    LAUGHS 

THEY  took  Jimmie  into  the  house,  and  Norma, 
looking  neither  to  right  nor  left,  walked  by  the 
side  of  those  carrying  him,  the  front  of  her  em- 
broidered dress  smeared  with  blood.  Every  time  her  hands 
came  in  contact  with  the  delicate  fabric,  they  left  a  fresh 
smear.  Of  this  she  was  unconscious.  She  was  uncon- 
scious too,  save  in  a  dull  way,  of  the  staring  crowd;  but 
she  held  her  head  high,  and  when  Morland  spoke  to  her 
by  the  drawing-room  window  through  which  they  passed, 
she  listened  to  what  he  had  to  say,  bowed  slightly,  and 
went  on. 

"  It  is  only  a  flesh  wound.  If  it  had  been  the  lung,  he 
would  have  spat  blood.  I  don't  think  it  is  serious." 

He  spoke  in  a  curiously  apologetic  tone,  as  if  anxious  to 
exculpate  himself  from  complicity  in  the  attempted  murder. 
He  was  horribly  frightened.  Two  deaths  laid  in  one  day 
at  a  man's  door  are  enough.  The  possibility  of  a  third  was 
intolerable.  The  sense  of  the  unheroic  part  he  had  just 
played  was  beginning  to  creep  over  him  like  a  chilling  mist. 
The  consequences  of  confession,  the  only  means  whereby 
Jimmie  could  be  rehabilitated,  loomed  in  front  of  him  more 
and  more  disastrous.  It  would  be  presenting  himself  to  the 
world  as  a  coward  as  well  as  a  knave.  That  prospect,  too, 
frightened  him.  Lastly,  there  was  Norma,  white,  terror- 
stricken,  metamorphosed  in  a  second  into  a  creature  of 

183 


Where  Love  Is 

primitive  emotions.  Like  the  other  shocks  of  that  unhal- 
lowed day,  her  revelation  of  unsuspected  passions  brought 
him  face  to  face  with  the  unfamiliar;  and  to  the  average 
sensual  man  the  unfamiliar  brings  with  it  an  atmosphere  of 
the  uncanny,  the  influence  to  be  feared.  His  attitude, 
therefore,  when  he  addressed  her  was  ludicrously  humble. 

She  bowed  and  passed  on.  By  this  time  she  knew  that 
Jimmie  was  not  dead.  Morland's  words  even  reassured 
her.  Her  breath  came  hard  through  her  delicate  nostrils, 
and  her  bosom  heaved  up  and  down  beneath  the  open-work 
bodice  with  painful  quickness.  Only  a  few  were  allowed 
to  stay  in  the  dining-room,  Morland,  Mr.  Hardacre,  Theo- 
dore Weever  on  behalf  of  the  duchess,  and  one  or  two 
others,  while  the  Cosford  doctor,  who  had  been  invited  to 
the  garden-party,  made  his  examination.  Norma  went 
through  into  the  hall.  At  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  she 
met  Connie  in  piteous  distress. 

u  Oh,  my  poor  dear,  my  poor  dear,  we  did  n't  know  ! 
I  have  just  heard  all  about  it.  It  is  terrible  !  " 

Norma  put  up  her  hand  beseechingly. 

"  Don't,  Connie  dear  ;  don't  talk  of  it.  I  can't  bear  it. 
I  must  be  alone.  Send  me  up  word  what  the  doctor  says." 

She  went  to  her  room,  sat  there  and  waited.  Presently 
her  maid  entered  with  the  message  from  Mrs.  Deering. 
The  doctor's  report  was  favourable  —  the  wound  not  in  any 
way  dangerous,  the  bullet  easily  extractable.  They  had 
carried  the  patient  to  his  bedroom,  and  Mrs.  Deering  had 
wired  for  Miss  Marden  to  come  down  by  the  first  train. 
Norma  dismissed  the  maid,  and  tried,  in  a  miserable  won- 
der, to  realise  all  that  had  happened. 

A  woman  accustomed  to  many  emotions  can  almost 
always  hold  herself  in  check,  if  she  be  of  strong  will.  Ex- 

184 


Mrs.  Hardacre  Laughs 

perience  has  taught  her  the  meaning  and  the  danger  of  those 
swift  rushes  of  the  blood  that  lead  to  unreasoning  outburst. 
She  is  forewarned,  forearmed,  and  can  resist  or  not  as  occa- 
sion demands.  But  even  she  is  sometimes  taken  unawares. 
How  much  the  more  likely  to  give  way  is  the  woman  who 
has  never  felt  passionate  emotion  in  her  life  before.  The 
premonitory  symptoms  fail  to  convey  the  sense  of  danger  to 
her  inexperienced  mind.  Before  the  will  has  time  to  act 
she  is  swept  on  by  a  new  force,  bewildering,  irresistible. 
It  becomes  an  ecstatic  madness  of  joy  or  grief,  and  to  the 
otherwise  rational  being  her  actions  are  of  no  account. 
This  curse  of  quick  responsiveness  afflicts  men  to  a  less 
degree.  If  the  first  chapters  of  Genesis  could  be  brought 
up  to  date,  woman  would  be  endowed,  not  with  an  extra 
rib,  but  with  an  extra  nerve. 

Now  that  she  knew  the  shooting  of  Jimmie  to  be  an 
affair  of  no  great  seriousness,  her  heart  sickened  at  the 
thought  of  her  wild  exhibition  of  feeling.  She  heard  the 
sniggering  and  ridicule  in  every  carriage-load  of  home- 
ward-bound guests.  From  the  wife  of  the  scrubby  curate 
to  the  Princess  of  Herren-Rothbeck,  her  name  was  rolled 
like  a  delicate  morsel  on  the  tongue  of  every  woman  in  the 
county.  And  the  inference  they  could  not  fail  to  draw 
from  her  action  was  true  —  miserably  true.  But  she  had 
only  become  poignantly  aware  of  things  at  the  moment 
when  she  saw  the  lean  haggard  man  in  rusty  black  covering 
Jimmie  with  the  revolver.  Then  all  the  unrest  of  soul 
which  she  had  striven  to  allay  with  her  mockery,  all  the 
disquieting  visions  of  sweet  places  to  which  she  had  scorn- 
fully blinded  her  eyes,  all  the  burning  words  of  passion 
whose  clear  echoing  had  wrapped  her  body  in  hateful  fever 
the  night  before,  converged  like  electric  currents  into  one 

185 


Where  Love  Is 

steady  light  radian*  with  significance.  Two  minutes  after- 
wards, when  Jimmie  fell,  civilisation  slipped  from  her  like 
a  loose  garment,  and  primitive  woman  threw  herself  by 
his  side.  But  now,  reclothed,  she  shivered  at  the  memory. 

The  door  opened  suddenly,  and  Mrs.  Hardacre  entered. 
There  was  battle  in  every  line  of  the  hard  face  and  in 
every  movement  of  the  thin,  stiff  figure.  Norma  rose  from 
the  window  where  she  had  been  sitting  and  faced  her 
mother  defiantly. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say  to  me.  Don't  you 
think  you  might  wait  a  little  ?  It  will  keep." 

"  It  won't.  Sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre  between  her 
teeth. 

"  I  prefer  to  stand  for  the  moment,"  said  Norma. 

Mrs.  Hardacre  lost  her  self-control. 

"  Are  we  to  send  you  to  a  madhouse  ?  What  do  you 
mean  by  your  blazing  folly  ?  Before  the  whole  county  — 
before  the  duchess  —  before  the  princess  !  Do  you  know 
what  I  have  had  to  go  through  the  last  half-hour  ?  Do  you 
know  that  we  may  never  set  foot  in  Chiltern  Towers  again  ? 
Do  you  know  we  are  the  scandal  and  the  laughing-stock  of 
the  county  ?  As  if  one  thing  was  n't  sufficient  —  for  you  to 
crown  it  by  behaving  like  a  hysterical  school -girl  !  Do  you 
know  what  interpretation  every  scandal-mongering  tabby  in 
the  place  is  putting  on  your  insane  conduct  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Norma,  looking  at  her  mother  stonily ; 
"  and  for  once  in  their  spiteful  lives  they  are  quite  right." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  gasped  Mrs.  Hardacre. 

"  I  think  my  meaning  is  obvious." 

"That  man — that  painter  man  dressed  like  a  second- 
hand clothes-dealer  —  that  —  that  beast  ?  " 

Mrs.  Hardacre  could  scarcely   trust    her    senses.     The 

186 


Mrs.  Hardacre  Laughs 

true  solution  of  her  daughter's  extraordinary  behaviour  had 
never  crossed  her  most  desperate  imaginings.  But  then 
she  had  not  had  much  time  for  quiet  speculati«n.  The 
speeding  of  her  hurriedly  departing  guests  had  usurped 
all  the  wits  of  the  poor  lady. 

"  You  have  indeed  given  us  a  dramatic  entertainment, 
dear  Mrs.  Hardacre,"  Lady  FitzHubert  had  said  with  a 
sympathetic  smile.  "  And  poor  Norma  has  supplied  the 
curtain.  I  hope  she  won't  take  it  too  much  to  heart." 

And  Mrs.  Hardacre,  livid  with  rage,  had  had  no  weapon 
wherewith  to  strike  her  adversary  who  thus  took  triumphant 
vengeance.  It  had  been  a  half-hour  of  grievous  humilia- 
tion. The  fount  and  origin  thereof  was  lying  unconscious 
with  a  bullet  through  his  shoulder.  The  subsidiary  stream, 
so  to  speak,  was  in  her  room  safe  and  sound.  Human 
nature,  for  which  she  is  not  deserving  of  over-blame,  had 
driven  Mrs.  Hardacre  thither.  At  least  she  could  vent 
some  of  her  pent-up  fury  upon  her  outrageous  daughter, 
who,  from  Mrs.  Hardacre's  point  of  view,  indeed  owed  an 
explanation  of  her  action  and  deserved  maternal  censure. 
This  she  was  more  than  prepared  to  administer.  But 
when  she  heard  Norma  calmly  say  that  Lady  FitzHubert 
and  the  other  delighted  wreakers  of  private  revenges  were 
entirely  in  the  right,  she  gasped  with  amazement. 

"That  beast  !  "  she  repeated  with  a  rising  intonation. 

Norma  gave  her  habitual  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  With 
her  proud,  erect  bearing,  it  was  a  gesture  not  ungraceful. 

"  Considering  what  I  have  just  admitted,  mother,  per- 
haps it  would  be  in  better  taste  not  to  use  such  language." 

"  I  don't  understand  your  admitting  it.  I  don't  know 
what  on  earth  you  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre. 

There  was  a  short  pause,  during  which  she  scanned  her 

187 


Where  Love  Is 

daughter's  face  anxiously  as  if  waiting  to  see  a  gleam  of 
reason  dawn  on  it.  Norma  reflected  for  a  moment. 
Should  she  speak  or  not  ?  She  decided  to  speak.  Brutal 
frankness  had  ever  been  her  best  weapon  against  her 
mother.  It  would  probably  prevent  future  wrangling. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  have  n't  made  my  meaning  clear,"  shr 
said,  resuming  her  seat  by  the  window  ;  "  and  I  don't  know 
whether  I  can  make  it  much  clearer.  Anyhow,  I  '11  try, 
mother.  I  used  to  think  that  love  was  either  a  school-girl 
sentimentality,  a  fiction  of  the  poets,  or  else  the  sort  of  thing 
that  lands  married  women  who  don't  know  how  to  take 
care  of  themselves  in  the  divorce  court.  I  find  it  is  n't. 
That's  all." 

Mrs.  Hardacre  ran  up  to  the  window  and  faced  Norma. 

«  And  Morland  ?  " 

"  It  won't  break  his  heart." 

"  What  won't  ?  " 

"  The  breaking  off  of  our  engagement." 

Mrs.  Hardacre  looked  at  her  daughter  in  a  paralysis  of 
bewilderment. 

u  The  madhouse  is  the  only  place  for  you." 

"Perhaps  it  is.  Anyway  I  can't  marry  a  man  when 
I  care  for  his  intimate  friend  —  and  when  the  intimate 
friend  cares  for  me.  Somehow  it 's  not  quite  decent. 
Even  you,  mother,  can  see  that." 

"  So  you  and  the  intimate  friend  have  arranged  it  all 
between  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  He  does  n't  know  that  I  care,  and  he 
does  n't  know  that  I  know  that  he  cares.  I  '11  say  that 
over  again  if  you  like.  It  is  quite  accurately  expressed. 
And  you  know  I  'm  not  in  the  habit  of  lying." 

"  And  you  propose  to  marry  —  " 

188 


Mrs.  Hardacre  Laughs 

"  I  don't  propose  to  do  anything,"  interrupted  Norma, 
quickly.  "  I  at  least  can  wait  till  he  asks  me.  And  now, 
mother,  I  've  had  rather  a  bad  time  —  don't  you  think  we 
might  stop  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me,  my  dear  Norma,  we  are  only  just 
beginning,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre. 

Norma  rose  with  nervous  impatience. 

"  O  heavens,  mother,"  she  said,  in  the  full  deep  notes 
of  her  voice,  which  were  only  sounded  at  rare  moments  of 
feeling,  "  can't  you  see  that  I  'm  in  earnest  ?  This  man 
is  like  no  one  else  I  have  ever  met.  I  have  grown  to  need 
him.  Do  you  know  what  that  means  ?  With  him  I  am 
a  changed  woman  —  as  God  made  me,  I  suppose;  natural, 
fresh,  real  — "  Mrs.  Hardacre  sat  in  Norma's  vacated 
chair  by  the  window  and  stared  at  her,  as  she  moved  about 
the  room.  "  I  somehow  feel  that  I  am  a  woman,  after 
all.  I  have  got  something  higher  than  myself  that  I  can 
fall  at  the  feet  of,  and  that  's  what  every  woman  craves 
when  she 's  decent.  As  for  marrying  him  —  I  'm  not  fit 
to  marry  him.  There  is  n't  any  one  living  who  is.  That 's 
an  end  of  it,  mother.  I  can't  say  anything  more." 

"  And  do  you  propose  to  go  on  seeing  this  person  when 
he  recovers  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Hardacre. 

«  Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  really  can't  argue  with  you,"  said  her  mother,  mysti- 
fied. u  If  you  had  told  me  this  rubbish  yesterday,  I  should 
have  thought  you  touched  in  your  wits.  To-day  it  is 
midsummer  madness." 

"  Why  to-day  ?  "  asked  Norma. 

"  The  man  has  shown  himself  to  be  such  a  horrible 
beast.  Of  course,  if  you  think  confessing  to  having  seduced 
a  girl  under  infamous  circumstances  and  driven  her  by  his 


Where  Love  Is 

brutality  to  child-murder  and  suicide,  and  blazoning  the 
whole  thing  out  at  a  fashionable  garden-party  and  getting 
himself  shot  for  his  pains,  are  idyllic  virtues,  nothing  more 
can  be  said.  It 's  a  case,  as  I  remarked,  for  a  madhouse." 

Norma  came  and  stood  before  her  mother,  her  brows 
knitted  in  perplexity. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  going  crazy  —  I  really  don't  understand 
what  you  are  talking  about." 

Mrs.  Hardacre  leant  forward  in  her  chair  and  drew  a 
long  breath.  A  gleam  of  intelligence  came  into  her  eyes 
as  she  looked  at  Norma. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  don't  know  what  the  row 
was  about  before  the  man  fired  the  shot  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Norma,  blankly. 

Her  mother  fell  back  in  her  chair  and  laughed.  It  was 
the  first  moment  of  enjoyment  she  had  experienced  sincr; 
Stone's  black  figure  had  appeared  on  the  terrace.  Reac- 
tion from  strain  caused  the  laughter  to  ring  somewhat 
sharply.  Norma  regarded  her  with  an  anxious  frown. 

"  Please  tell  me  exactly  what  you  mean." 

"  My  dear  child  —  it 's  too  funny.  I  thought  you  would 
have  been  too  clever  to  be  taken  in  by  a  man  like  this. 
I  see,  you've  been  imagining  him  a  Galahad  —  a  sort  of 
spotless  prophet  —  though  what  use  you  can  have  for  such 
persons  I  can't  make  out.  Well,  this  is  what  happened." 

Embellishing  the  story  here  and  there  with  little  spite- 
ful adornments,  she  described  with  fair  accuracy,  however, 
the  scene  that  had  occurred.  Norma  listened  stonily. 

"  This  is  true  ? "  she  asked  when  her  mother  had 
finished. 

"  Ask  any  one  who  was  there  —  your  father  —  Mor- 
land." 

190 


Mrs.  Hardacre  Laughs 

"  I  can't  believe  it.     He  is  not  that  sort  of  man." 

"  Is  n't  he  ?  I  knew  he  was  the  first  time  I  set  eyes 
on  him.  Perhaps  another  time  you  '11  allow  me  to  have 
some  sense  —  of  course,  if  it  is  immaterial  to  you  whether 
a  man  is  a  brute —  What  are  you  ringing  the  bell 
for  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  Morland  to  come  up  here." 

The  maid  appeared,  received  Norma's  message,  and  re- 
tired. Norma  sat  by  her  little  writing-table,  with  her 
head  turned  away  from  her  mother,  and  there  was  silence 
between  them  till  the  maid  returned. 

"  Mr.  King  has  just  driven  off  to  catch  the  train,  miss. 
He  left  a  note  for  you." 

Mrs.  Hardacre  listened  with  contracted  brow.  When 
the  maid  retired,  she  bent  forward  anxiously. 

"  What  does  he  say  ?  " 

"You  can  read  it,  mother,"  replied  Norma,  wearily. 
She  held  out  the  note.  Mrs.  Hardacre  came  forward  and 
took  it  from  her  hand  and  sat  down  again. 

It  ran  : 

"  DEAR  NORMA,  —  I  think  it  best  to  run  up  to  town  on  this 
afternoon's  business.  I  have  only  just  time  to  catch  the  train  at 
Cosford,  so  you  will  forgive  my  not  saying  good-bye  to  you  more 
ceremoniously.  Take  care  of  poor  Jimmie. 

"  Yours  affectionately, 

"  MORLAND." 

"  l  Poor  Jimmie,'  indeed  !  "  said  Mrs.  Hardacre,  some- 
what relieved  at  finding  the  note  contained  no  reference 
to  the  part  played  by  Norma.  "  It 's  very  good  of  Mor- 
land, but  I  wish  he  would  not  mix  himself  up  in  this 
scandal." 

191 


Where  Love  Is 

"  I  can't  see  what  less  he  could  do  than  look  after  his 
friend's  interests,"  said  Norma. 

"  I  wish  the  man  had  been  shot  or  hanged  before  he  came 
down  here,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre,  vindictively.  "  That  's 
the  worst  of  associating  with  such  riff-raff.  One  never 
knows  what  they  will  do.  It  will  teach  you  not  to  pick 
people  out  of  the  gutter  and  set  them  in  a  drawing-room." 
f  Mrs.  Hardacre  rose.  She  did  not  often  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  triumphing  over  her  daughter.  She  crossed  the 
room  and  paused  for  a  moment  by  Norma,  who  sat  motion- 
less with  her  chin  in  her  hand,  apparently  too  dismayed  to 
retort. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  symptoms  of  sanity,"  she  remarked. 

Norma  brought  down  her  hand  hard  upon  the  table  and 
leaped  to  her  feet  and  faced  her  mother. 

"  I  tell  you,  it 's  impossible  !  Impossible  !  He  is  not 
that  kind  of  man.  It  is  some  horrible  mistake.  I  will 
ask  him  myself.  I  will  get  the  truth  from  his  own 
lips." 

"  You  shall  certainly  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  cried  her 
mother ;  and  in  order  to  have  the  last  word  she  went  out 
and  slammed  the  door  behind  her. 

Norma  sat  by  the  window  again.  The  red  September  sun 
was  setting,  and  bathed  downs  and  trees  in  warm  light,  and 
glinted  on  the  spire  of  a  little  village  church  a  mile  away. 
Everything  it  touched  was  at  peace,  save  the  bowed  head 
of  the  girl,  clasped  with  white  fingers  which  still  retained 
the  dull  brown  marks  of  blood.  Could  she  believe  the 
revolting  story  ?  A  woman  so  driven  to  desperation  must 
have  been  cruelly  handled.  Her  sex  rose  up  against  the 
destroyer.  Her  social  training  had  caused  her  to  regard 
with  cynical  indifference  ordinary  breaches  of  what  is 

192 


Mrs.  Hardacre  Laughs 

popularly  termed  the  moral  law.  In  the  fast,  idle  set  which 
she  generally  frequented  it  was  as  ordinary  for  a  man  to 
neigh  after  his  neighbour's  wife  as  to  try  to  win  his  friend's 
money ;  as  unsurprising  for  him  to  keep  a  mistress  as  a 
stud  of  race-horses ;  the  crime  was  to  marry  her.  But  it 
was  not  customary,  even  in  smart  society,  to  drive  women 
to  murder  their  new-born  babes  and  kill  themselves.  A 
callous  brutality  suggested  itself,  and  the  contemplation  of 
it  touched  humanity,  sex,  essential  things.  Could  she 
believe  the  story  ?  She  shuddered. 

The  dressing-gong  sounded  through  the  house.  Her  maid 
entered,  drew  the  curtains,  and  lit  the  gas ;  then  was  dis- 
missed. Norma  would  not  go  down  to  dinner.  A  little 
food  and  drink  in  her  own  room  would  be  all  that  she 
could  swallow. 

Later,  Connie  Deering,  who  had  changed  her  dress, 
tapped  at  the  door  and  was  bidden  to  enter.  A  quantity 
of  powder  vainly  strove  to  hide  the  traces  of  recent  tears 
on  her  pretty  face.  She  was  a  swollen-featured,  piteous 
little  butterfly. 

"  How  is  he  ?  "  asked  Norma. 

"  Better,  much  better.  They  have  taken  out  the  bullet. 
There  is  no  danger,  and  he  has  recovered  consciousness. 
I  almost  wish  he  hadn't.  Oh,  Norma  dear  —  " 

She  broke  down  and  sat  on  the  bed  and  sobbed.    Norma 
came  up  and  laid  her  hand  on  her  shoulder. 
"  Surely  you  don't  believe  this  ghastly  story  ?  " 
The  fair  head  nodded  above  the  handkerchief.     A  voice 
came  from  below  it. 

u  I    must  —  it 's    horrible  —  Jimmie,    of   all    men  !     I 
thought  his  life  was  so  sweet  and  clean  —  almost  like  a 
good  woman's  —  I  can't  understand  it.     If  he  is  as  bad  as 
'3  193 


Where  Love  Is 

this,  what  must  other  men  be  like  ?  I  feel  as  if  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  look  a  man  in  the  face  again." 

"  But  why  should  you  take  it  for  granted  that  he  has 
done  this  ?  "  asked  Norma,  tonelessly. 

Mrs.  Deering  raised  her  face  and  looked  at  her  friend  in 
blue-eyed  dismay. 

"  I  did  n't  take  it  for  granted.  He  told  me  so  himself. 
Otherwise  do  you  think  I  should  have  believed  it  ?  " 

"  He  told  you  so  himself!       When  ?  " 

"  A  short  while  ago.  I  went  into  his  room.  I  could  n't 
help  it  —  I  felt  as  if  I  should  have  gone  mad  if  I  did  n't 
know  the  truth.  Parsons  was  there  with  him.  She  said 
I  could  come  in.  He  smiled  at  me  in  his  old  way,  and 
that  smile  is  enough  to  make  any  woman  fall  in  love  with 
him.  c  You  Ve  been  crying,  Connie,'  he  said.  l  That 's 
very  foolish  of  you.'  So  I  began  to  cry  more.  You 
would  have  cried  if  you  had  heard  him.  I  asked  him  how 
he  was  feeling.  He  said  he  had  never  felt  so  well  in  his 
life.  Then  I  blurted  it  out.  I  know  I  was  a  beast,  but 
it  was  more  than  I  could  stand.  '  Tell  me  that  this  mad- 
man's story  was  all  lies.'  He  looked  at  me  queerly,  waited 
for  a  second  or  two,  and  then  moved  his  head.  *  It 's  all 
true,'  he  said,  l  all  true.'  c  But  you  must  have  some  ex- 
planation !  '  I  cried.  He  shut  his  eyes  as  if  he  were 
tired  and  said  I  must  take  the  facts  as  they  were.  Then 
Parsons  came  up  and  said  I  must  n't  excite  him,  and  sent 
me  out  of  the  room.  But  I  did  n't  want  to  hear  any  more. 
I  had  heard  enough,  had  n't  I  ?  " 

Norma,  as  she  listened  to  the  little  lady's  tale,  felt  her 
heart  grow  cold  and  heavy.  Doubt  was  no  longer  possible. 
The  man  himself  had  spoken.  He  had  not  even  pleaded 
extenuating  circumstances  ;  had  merely  admitted  the  plain, 

194 


Mrs.  Hardacre  Laughs 

brutal  facts.  He  had  gone  under  a  feigned  name,  seduced 
an  honest  girl,  abandoned  her,  driven  her  to  tragedy.  It 
was  all  too  simple  to  need  explanation. 

"  But  what  are  we  to  do,  dear  ?  "  cried  Connie,  as 
Norma  made  no  remark,  but  stood  motionless  and  silent. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  drop  his  acquaintance,"  she 
replied  with  bitter  irony. 

Connie  flinched  at  the  tone,  being  a  tender-natured 
woman.  She  retorted  with  some  spirit : 

"  I  don't  believe  you  have  any  heart  at  all,  Norma. 
And  I  thought  you  cared  for  him." 

"  You  thought  I  cared  for  him  ? "  Norma  repeated 
slowly  and  cuttingly  while  her  eyes  hardened.  "  What 
right  had  you  to  form  such  an  opinion  ? " 

"  People  can  form  any  opinions  they  like,  my  dear," 
said  Connie.  "  That  was  mine.  And  on  the  terrace  this 
afternoon  you  know  you  cared.  If  ever  a  woman  gave 
herself  away  over  a  man,  it  was  Norma  Hardacre." 

"  It  was  n't  Norma  Hardacre,  I  assure  you.  It  was 
a  despicable  fool  whom  I  will  ask  you  to  forget.  My 
mother  was  for  putting  it  into  a  madhouse.  She  was  quite 
right.  Anyhow  it  has  ceased  to  exist  and  I  am  the  real 
Norma  Hardacre  again.  Humanity  is  afflicted,  it  seems, 
periodically  with  a  peculiar  disease.  It  turns  men  into 
beasts  and  women  into  idiots.  I  have  quite  recovered,  my 
dear  Connie,  and  if  you  '11  kindly  go  down  and  ask  them 
to  keep  dinner  back  for  five  minutes,  I  '11  dress  and  come 
down." 

She  rang  the  bell  for  her  maid.  Connie  rose  from  the 
bed.  She  longed  to  make  some  appeal  to  the  other's  softer 
nature  for  her  own  sake,  as  she  had  held  Jimmie  very  dear 
and  felt  the  need  of  sympathy  in  her  trouble  and  disillusion. 

195 


Where  Love  Is 

But  knowing  that  from  the  rock  of  that  cynical  mood  no 
water  would  gush  forth  for  any  one's  magic,  she  recognised 
the  inefficacy  of  her  own  guileless  arts,  and  forbore  to 
exercise  them.  She  sighed  for  answer.  By  chance  her 
glance  fell  upon  Norma's  skirt.  Human  instinct,  not 
altogether  feminine,  seized  upon  the  trivial. 

"  Why,  whatever  have  you  been  doing  to  your  dress  ?  " 

Norma  looked  down,  and  for  the  first  time  noticed  the 
disfiguring  smears  of  blood. 

•"  I  must  have  spilt  something,"  she  said,  turning  away 
quickly,  and  beginning  to  unfasten  the  hooks  and  eyes  of 
her  neckband. 

"  I  hope  it  will  come  out,"  said  Connie.  "  It 's  such  a 
pretty  frock." 

As  soon  as  she  was  alone,  Norma  looked  at  the  stains 
with  unutterable  repulsion.  She  tore  off  the  dress  fever- 
ishly and  threw  it  into  a  corner.  When  her  maid  entered 
in  response  to  her  summons,  she  pointed  to  the  shapeless 
heap  of  crepe  and  embroidery. 

"  Take  that  away  and  burn  it,"  she  said. 


196 


Chapter   XVI 
IN   THE   WILDERNESS 

NORMA  went  down  to  dinner  resolved  to  present 
a  scornful  front  to  public  opinion.  She  found 
the  effort  taxed  her  strength.  During  the 
night  her  courage  deserted  her.  The  cold  glitter  of  tri- 
umph in  her  mother's  eyes  had  been  intolerable.  Her 
father,  generally  regarded  with  contemptuous  indifference, 
had  goaded  her  beyond  endurance  with  his  futile  upbraid- 
ing. Aline  had  arrived,  white-faced  and  questioning,  and 
had  established  herself  by  Jimmie's  bedside.  Norma  shrank 
from  the  ordeal  of  the  daily  meeting  with  her  and  the  ex- 
planation that  would  inevitably  come.  She  dreaded  the 
return  of  Morland,  uncertain  of  her  own  intentions.  As 
she  tossed  about  on  her  pillow,  she  loathed  the  idea  of  the 
marriage.  Innermost  sex  had  spoken  for  one  passionate 
moment,  and  its  message  still  vibrated.  She  knew  that 
time  might  dull  the  memory ;  she  knew  that  her  will 
might  one  day  triumph  over  such  things  as  sex  and  senti- 
ment ;  but  she  must  have  a  breathing  space,  a  period  of 
struggle,  of  reflection,  above  all,  of  disassociation  from 
present  surroundings.  If  she  sold  herself,  it  must  be  in 
the  accustomed  cold  atmosphere  of  brain  and  heart.  Not 
now,  when  her  head  burned  and  flaming  swords  were 
piercing  her  through  and  through.  And  last,  and  chief 
of  all  her  dreads,  was  the  wounded  man  now  sleeping 

197 


Where  Love  Is 

beneath  that  roof.  Father,  mother,  Aline,  Morland  — 
these,  torture  though  it  were,  she  could  still  steel  her 
nerves  to  meet ;  but  him,  never.  He  had  done  what 
no  other  man  in  the  wide  world  had  done.  He  had  awak- 
ened the  sleeping,  sacredest  inmost  of  her,  and  he  had  dealt 
it  a  deadly  wound.  If  she  could  have  consumed  him  and 
all  the  memories  surrounding  him  with  fire,  as  she  had 
consumed  the  garment  stained  with  his  blood,  she  would 
have  done  so  in  these  hours  of  misery.  And  fierce  among 
the  bewildering  conflict  of  emotions  that  raged  through  the 
long  night  was  one  that  filled  her  with  overwhelming  dis- 
gust—  a  horrible,  almost  grotesque  jealousy  of  the  dead 
girl. 

In  the  morning,  exhausted,  she  resolved  on  immediate 
flight.  In  the  little  village  of  Penwyrn  on  the  Cornish 
coast,  her  aunt  Janet  Hardacre  led  a  remote,  Quakerish 
existence.  The  reply  to  a  telegram  before  she  left  her 
room  assured  Norma  of  a  welcome.  By  eleven  o'clock 
she  had  left  Heddon  Court  and  was  speeding  westwards 
without  a  word  to  Jimmie  or  Aline. 

Morland  returned  in  the  afternoon,  and  after  a  whisky 
and  soda  to  brace  his  nerves,  at  once  sought  Jimmie,  who 
roused  himself  with  an  effort  to  greet  his  visitor. 

"  Getting  on  famously,  I  hear,"  said  Morland,  with 
forced  airiness.  "  So  glad.  We  '11  have  you  on  your  feet 
in  a  day  or  two." 

"  I  hope  to  be  able  to  travel  back  to  London  to-morrow." 

"  To-morrow  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Jimmie,  with  a  curious  smile.  "  I  fear  I 
have  outstayed  my  welcome." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Morland,  seating  himself  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed.  "  We  '11  put  all  that  right.  But  you  will 

198 


In  the  Wilderness 

give  on?  a  little  time,  won't  you?  You  mustn't  think 
you  've  been  altogether  left.  I  ran  up  to  town  at  once  to 
see  my  solicitors  —  not  my  usual  people,  you  know,  but 
some  others,  devilish  smart  fellows  at  this  sort  of  thing. 
They  '11  see  that  nothing  gets  into  the  beastly  papers." 

"  I  don't  see  that  it  matters  much,"  said  Jimmie. 

"  Why,  of  course  it  does.  I  'm  not  going  to  let  you 
take  the  whole  blame.  I  could  n't  come  forward  yesterday, 
it  was  all  so  sudden.  The  scandal  would  have  rotted  my 
election  altogether.  But  you  shall  be  cleared  —  at  any 
rate  in  the  eyes  of  this  household.  I  came  down  with  the 
intention  of  telling  Norma,  but  she  has  bolted  to  Corn- 
wall. Upset,  I  suppose.  However,  as  soon  as  she  comes 
back  —  " 

"  Let  things  be  as  they  are,"  interrupted  Jimmie,  closing 
his  eyes  for  a  moment  wearily,  for  he  had  been  suffering 
much  bodily  pain.  "  When  I  said  I  was  David  Rendell, 
I  meant  it.  I  can  go  on  acting  the  part.  It 's  pretty 
easy." 

"  Impossible,  my  dear  old  chap,"  said  Morland,  with 
an  air  of  heartiness.  "  You  went  into  the  affair  with 
your  eyes  shut.  You  did  n't  know  it  was  such  a  horrible 
mess." 

"  All  the  more  reason  for  Norma  to  remain  ignorant. 
It  was  for  her  sake  as  well  as  yours." 

A  peculiar  tenderness  in  Jimmie's  tone  caused  Morland, 
not  usually  perceptive,  to  look  at  him  sharply. 

"  You  are  very  keen  upon  Norma,"  he  remarked. 

Jimmie  closed  his  eyes  again,  and  smiled.  He  was  very 
weak  and  tired.  The  pain  of  his  wound  and  a  certain 
mental  agitation  had  kept  him  awake  all  night,  and  just 
6efore  Morland  entered  he  had  been  dropping  off  to  sleep 

159 


Where  Love  Is 

for  the  first  time.     An  unconquerable  drowsiness  induced 
irresponsibility  of  speech. 

"  c  The  desire  of  the  moth  for  the  star,'  "  he  murmured. 

Morland  slid  from  the  bed  to  his  feet,  and  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  gazed  in  astonishment  at  his  friend. 
An  entirely  novel  state  of  affairs  dawned  upon  him  which 
required  a  few  moments  to  bring  into  focus.  The  ghastly 
tragedy  for  which  he  was  responsible,  presenting  itself 
luridly  at  every  instant  of  the  night  and  day,  had  hidden 
from  his  reminiscent  vision  Norma's  rush  down  the  slope 
and  her  scared  tending  of  the  unconscious  man.  Jimmie's 
words  brought  back  the  scene  with  unpleasant  vividness  and 
provided  the  interpretation.  When  he  saw  this  clearly,  he 
was  the  most  amazed  man  in  the  three  kingdoms.  That 
Jimmie  should  have  conceived  and  nourished  a  silly,  roman- 
tic passion  for  Norma,  although  he  had  never  interested 
himself  sufficiently  in  Jimmie's  private  affairs  to  suspect  it, 
was  humorously  comprehensible.  Ludicrously  incompre- 
hensible, however,  was  a  reciprocation  of  the  sentiment 
on  the  part  of  Norma.  In  spite  of  remorse,  in  spite  of 
anxiety,  in  spite  of  the  struggle  between  cowardice  and 
manhood,  his  uppermost  sensation  at  that  moment  was 
one  of  lacerated  vanity.  He  had  been  hoodwinked,  be- 
fooled, deceived.  His  own  familiar  friend  had  betrayed 
him ;  the  woman  he  was  about  to  honour  with  his  name 
had  set  him  at  naught.  He  tingled  with  anger  and  sense 
of  wrong. 

The  sick  man  opened  his  eyes  drowsily,  and  seeing  Mor- 
land's  gaze  full  upon  him,  started  into  wakefulness.  He 
motioned  him  to  come  nearer. 

"  If  you  marry  Norma  —  "  he  began. 

u  If  I  marry  her  !  "  cried  Morland.     "  Of  course  I  'm 

200 


In  the  Wilderness 

going  to  marry  her.  I  '11  see  any  other  man  damned 
before  he  marries  her !  She 's  the  only  woman  in  the 
world  I  've  ever  set  my  mind  on,  and  no  matter  what  hap- 
pens, I  'm  going  to  marry  her.  There  are  no  damned  if 's 
about  it." 

"  Yes,  there  are,"  Jimmie  retorted  weakly.  u  I  was 
going  to  preach,  but  I  'm  too  tired.  You  '11  have  to  be 
especially  good  to  her  —  to  make  up." 

"  For  what  ? " 

"  For  the  wrong  done  to  the  other." 

Morland  was  silent.  He  went  up  to  the  window  and 
stared  out  across  the  lawns  and  tugged  at  his  moustache. 
The  reproach  stung  him,  and  he  felt  that  Jimmie  was  un- 
generous. After  all,  he  had  only  done  what  thousands  of 
other  men  had  done  with  impunity.  The  consequences 
had  been  enough  to  drive  him  mad,  but  they  had  been  the 
hideous  accident  of  a  temperament  for  which  he  had  not 
been  responsible. 

41  You  surely  don't  believe  all  that  mad  fool  said  yester- 
day ?  "  he  muttered  without  turning  round. 

"  The  promise  of  marriage  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  crazy  invention.  There  never  was  any  ques- 
tion of  marriage.  I  told  you  so  months  ago.  I  did  every- 
thing in  my  power." 

"  I  'm  glad,"  said  Jimmie. 

Morland  made  no  reply,  but  continued  to  stare  out  of  the 
window  and  meditate  upon  the  many  injuries  that  fate  had 
done  him.  He  arraigned  himself  before  the  bar  of  his 
wounded  vanity.  He  had  broken  the  moral  law  and 
deserved  a  certain  penalty.  The  magnanimous  verdict 
received  the  applause  of  an  admiring  self.  He  was  will- 
ing to  undergo  an  adequate  punishment  —  the  imposition 

201 


Where  Love  Is 

of  a  fine  and  the  hard  labour  of  setting  devious  things 
straight.  But  the  alternative  sentence  to  which  he  saw 
himself  condemned  —  on  the  one  hand,  the  ruin  of  his 
political  career,  his  social  position,  and  his  marriage  with 
Norma,  to  all  of  which  he  clung  with  a  newly  found  pas- 
sion, and  on  the  other,  ignoble  shelter  behind  an  innocent 
man  who  had  done  him  a  great  wrong] —  he  rebelled  against 
with  all  his  average,  sensual  Briton's  sense  of  justice.  It 
was  grossly  unfair.  If  there  had  been  a  spiritual  "  Times," 
he  would  have  written  to  it. 

The  opening  of  the  door  caused  him  to  turn  round  with 
a  start.  It  was  Aline,  anxi&us  and  pale  from  an  all-night 
sitting  by  Jimmie's  bedside,  but  holding  her  slim  body  erect, 
and  wearing  the  uncompromising  air  of  a  mother  who  has 
found  her  child  evilly  entreated  at  the  hands  of  strangers. 
She  glanced  at  the  bed  and  at  Morland ;  then  she  put  her 
finger  to  her  lip,  and  pointed  at  Jimmie,  who  lay  fast  asleep. 
Morland  nodded  and  went  on  tiptoe  out  of  the  room. 
Aline  looked  round,  and  being  a  sensitive  young  person, 
shivered.  She  threw  open  the  window  wide,  as  if  to  rid 
the  place  of  his  influence.  Jimmie  stirred  ^lightly.  She 
bent  down  and  kissed  his  hair. 

During  the  dark  and  troubled  time  that  followed,  Mor- 
land fell  away  from  Jimmie  like  the  bosom  friend  of  a 
mediaeval  artist  stricken  with  the  Black  Death.  At  first, 
common  decency  impelled  him  to  send  the  tainted  one 
affectionate  messages,  invitations  to  trust  him  awhile  longer, 
and  enlarged,  with  the  crudity  of  his  mental  habit,  on  the 
noble  aspects  of  Jimmie's  sacrifice.  But  after  Jimmie  left 
the  Hardacres'  house,  which  happened  as  soon  as  he  could 
kear  the  journey,  Morland  shrank  from  meeting  him  face 

202 


In  the  Wilderness 

to  face  j  and  when  public  exposure  came,  the  messages  and 
the  invitations  and  the  protestations  ceased,  and  Jimmie 
was  left  in  loneliness  upon  a  pinnacle  of  infamy.  Mor- 
land,  in  the  futile  hope  of  the  weak-willed  man  that  he 
could,  by  some  astonishing  chance,  sail  a  middle  course, 
did  indeed  give  himself  peculiar  pains  to  keep  the  story  oui 
of  the  newspapers,  and  his  ill-success  was  due  to  other 
causes  than  his  own  lack  of  effort.  It  was  a  tale  too 
picturesque  to  be  wasted  in  these  days  of  sensation-hunger. 
The  fact  of  the  denouement  of  the  tragedy  having  taken 
place  in  the  presence  of  royalty  lent  it  a  theatrical  glamour. 
A  sardonic  press  filled  an  Athenian  public  with  what  it 
lusted  after.  Indeed,  who  shall  say  with  authority  that  the 
actual  dramas  re-enacted  before  our  courts  and  reported  in 
our  newspapers  have  not  their  value  in  splashing  with 
sudden  colour  the  drab  lives  of  thousands  ?  May  it  not  be 
better  for  the  dulled  soul  to  be  occasionally  arrested  by  the 
contemplation  of  furious  passions  than  to  feed  contentedly 
like  a  pig  beside  the  slaughtered  body  of  its  fellow  ? 

Be  that  as  it  may.  The  press  paid  no  heed  to  Morland 
or  the  smart  fellows  of  solicitors  whom  he  employed.  It 
published  as  many  details  as  it  could  discover  or  invent. 
For  the  tragical  business  did  not  end  with  the  scene  on  the 
Hardacres'  lawn.  There  was  an  inquest  on  the  dead  girl. 
There  was  the  trial  of  Daniel  Stone  for  attempted  murder. 
The  full  glare  of  publicity  shed  itself  upon  the  sordid 
history.  In  the  one  case  the  jury  gave  a  verdict  of  suicide 
during  temporary  insanity ;  in  the  other  the  prisoner  was 
found  to  be  insane  and  was  sent  to  an  asylum.  These 
were  matters  of  no  great  public  interest.  But  letters  to 
the  dead  girl  in  a  disguised  handwriting  were  discovered, 
and  Stone  gave  his  crazy  evidence,  and  a  story  of  heartless 

203 


Where  Love  Is 

seduction  under  solemn  promise  of  marriage  and  of  aban- 
donment with  cynical  offer  of  money  was  established,  and 
the  fashionable  portrait-painter,  who  was  supposed  to  be 
the  hero  of  the  tale,  awoke  one  morning  and  found  him- 
self infamous.  The  thing,  instead  of  remaining  a  mere 
police-court  commonplace,  became  a  society  scandal.  Ex- 
aggeration was  inevitable,  not  only  of  facts  but  of  the 
reprobation  a  virtuous  community  pronounces  on  the 
specially  pilloried  wrongdoer.  The  scapegoat  in  its 
essential  significance  is  by  no  means  a  thing  of  legendary 
history.  It  exists  still,  and  owes  its  existence  to  an  in- 
eradicable instinct  in  human  nature.  The  reprobation 
aforesaid  is  due  not  entirely  to  hypocrisy,  as  the  social 
satirist  would  have  it,  but  in  a  great  measure  to  an  un- 
reasoning impulse  towards  expiation  of  offences  by  horrified 
condemnation  of  some  notorious  other.  Thus  it  came  to 
pass  that  upon  Jimmie's  head  were  put  all  the  iniquities  of 
the  people  and  all  their  transgressions  in  all  their  sins,  and 
he  was  led  away  into  the  social  wilderness.  After  that, 
the  world  forgot  him.  He  had  been  obscure  enough 
before  he  burst  for  a  day  into  the  blaze  of  royal  patronage  ; 
but  now  blackest  darkness  swallowed  him  up.  Only  Aline 
remained  by  his  side. 

Morland  wrote  to  Jimmie  once  after  the  exposure.  As 
he  had  been  the  cause,  said  he,  of  the  probable  ruin  of 
Jimmie's  professional  prospects,  it  was  only  right  that  he 
should  endeavour  to  make  some  compensation.  It  was, 
besides,  a  privilege  of  their  life-long  friendship.  He 
enclosed  a  cheque  for  two  thousand  pounds.  Jimmie 
returned  it. 

"  My  dear  Morland,"  he  wrote  in  answer,  "  loyalty 
can  only  be  repaid  by  loyalty,  love  by  love.  If  I  accepted 

204 


In  the  Wilderness 

money,  it  would  dishonour  both  yourself  and  me.  It  is 
true  that  I  took  upon  me  a  greater  burden  than  I  was 
aware  of.  The  world,  if  it  knew  the  facts,  would,  as  you 
say,  call  me  a  quixotic  fool.  But  if  I  took  your  money  it 
would  have  the  right  to  call  me  a  mercenary  knave.  I  have 
always  suffered  fools  gladly,  myself  the  greatest.  I  can  go 
on  doing  so.  Meanwhile  you  can  make  full  compensation 
in  the  only  way  possible.  Devote  your  life  and  energies 
to  the  happiness  of  the  woman  you  are  about  to  marry." 

This  was  a  stern  letter  for  Jimmie  to  write.  After  he 
had  posted  it  he  reproached  himself  for  not  having  put  in. 
a  kind  word. 


90$ 


Chapter  XVII 
THE  INCURABLE   MALADY 

"  ~*f~  'LL  never  let  you  inside  the  house  again  until  you 
go  down  on  your  knees  and  beg  Jimmie's  pardon," 
-M-  cried  Aline. 

She  stood,  a  slim  incarnation  of  outraged  womanhood, 
with  her  hand  on  the  knob  -of  the  open  door.  A  scared 
but  stubborn  youth  hesitated  on  the  threshold.  Few  men, 
least  of  all  lovers,  like  being  turned  out. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  care  a  hang  for  me  !  "  he  said. 

"  I  don't,"  she  retorted  bravely,  but  with  tremulous  lip. 
"  Not  a  hang,  as  you  call  it.  I  dislike  you  exceedingly  and 
I  don't  want  to  see  you  any  more.  I  '11  never  speak  to 
anybody  who  believes  such  things  of  Jimmie." 

"  But,  my  good  child,"  expostulated  Tony  Merewether, 
"they  are  facts ;  he  never  has  denied  them." 

«  He  could  if  he  liked." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  "  Aline  repeated  scornfully.  "  That 
just  shows  how  far  we  are  apart.  There  's  not  the  slightest 
reason  for  talking  any  more.  You  have  insulted  Jimmie 
and  you  are  going  on  insulting  him.  I  can't  stand  by  this 
door  forever.  I  want  you  to  go." 

u  Oh,  very  well,  I  '11  go,"  said  the  young  fellow.  "  But 
you  've  behaved  damnably  to  me,  Aline  —  simply  damnably." 

He  strode  down  the  passage  and  slammed  the  front  door 
behind  him.  Aline  turned  back  into  the  prim  little  drawing- 
cod 


The  Incurable  Malady 

room  where  the  interview  had  taken  place,  and  after  an 
attempt  to  remain  composed  and  dignified,  suddenly  broke 
into  tears.  She  could  struggle  no  more  against  the  cruelty 
of  man  and  the  hopelessness  of  life.  It  had  been  a 
stormy  interview.  Tony  Merewether  had  come,  as  her 
natural  protector,  to  insist  upon  immediate  marriage.  A 
small  legacy  recently  bequeathed  to  him  would  enable  them 
to  marry  with  reasonable  prudence.  Why  should  they 
wait  ?  Aline  pleaded  for  time.  How  could  she  leave  her 
beloved  Jimmie  in  his  blackest  hour  ? 

"  It 's  just  because  I  don't  think  it  quite  right  for  you  to 
live  here  any  longer,  that  I  want  you  to  come  away  at 
once,"  Tony  had  said. 

"Not  right  to  live  here  ?    What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?  " 

The  luckless  lover  tried  to  explain.  Aline  regarded  him 
icily,  and  in  his  confusion  and  discomfiture  he  lost  the 
careful  wrappings  which  he  had  prepared  for  his  words. 

"You  think  that  Jimmie  is  not  a  fit  perspn  for  me  to 
associate  with  ?  "  she  had  asked  in  a  dangerous  tone. 

"  Yes,  since  you  choose  to  put  it  that  way,"  he  had 
replied,  nettled.  He  believed  that  women  liked  a  man  of 
spirit  and  generally  yielded  to  a  show  of  masterfulness. 
He  was  very  young.  Taking  up  his  parable  with  greater 
confidence,  he  showed  her  the  social  and  moral  necessity 
of  immediate  recourse  to  his  respectable  protection.  Natu- 
rally he  admired  her  loyalty,  he  signified,  with  a  magnani- 
mous wave  of  the  hand ;  but  there  were  certain  things 
girls  did  not  quite  comprehend ;  a  man's  judgment  had  to 
be  trusted.  He  invited  her  to  surrender  entirely  to  his 
wisdom.  The  end  of  it  all  was  his  ignominious  dismissal. 
She  would  not  see  him  until  he  had  begged  Jimmie's  pardon 
on  his  knees. 

207 


Where  Love  Is 

But  now  she  buried  her  face  in  the  sofa-cushions  and 
sobbed.  It  was  her  first  poignant  disillusion.  Tony,  whom 
she  loved  with  all  her  heart,  was  just  like  everybody  else, 
incapable  of  pure  faith,  ready  to  believe  the  worst.  He 
was  cruel,  uncharitable.  She  would  never  speak  to  him 
again.  And  the  sweet  shy  dream  of  her  young  life  was 
over.  It  was  very  tragical. 

Jimmie's  step  coming  up  the  studio  stairs  caused  her  to 
spring  from  the  sofa  and  frantically  dry  her  eyes  before  the 
mirror.  The  steps  advanced  along  the  passage,  and  soon 
Jimmie's  head  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Where  have  you  hidden  'the  little  watercolour  box  ?  " 
he  asked  cheerily. 

*'  In  the  cupboard.  On  the  second  shelf,"  she  replied, 
without  turning  round. 

He  caught  sight  of  the  reflection  of  a  tear-stained  face, 
and  came  and  stood  by  her  side. 

"  Why,  you  've  been  crying  !  " 

"I  suppose  I  have,"  she  admitted  with  affectionate 
defiance,  looking  up  into  his  face.  "  Why  should  n't  I,  if 
I  like  ?  It 's  not  a  crime." 

"It 's  worse  —  it 's  a  blunder,"  he  quoted  with  a  smile. 
"  It  can't  do  any  one  any  good,  and  it  makes  your  pretty 
nose  red.  That  will  spoil  your  good  looks." 

"  I  wish  it  would.  My  looks  will  never  matter  to  any- 
body," she  said  desperately. 

He  put  his  arm  round  her  shoulders,  just  as  he  had  done 
since  she  could  remember. 

"What  has  happened  to  distress  you  —  more  than  usual  ?  " 
he  added. 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  hung  her  head. 

u  I  Ve  broken  ofFwith  Tony,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

208 


The  Incurable  Malady 

"  You  '11  mend  it  up  with  Tony  at  once,  my  dear." 

"  I  '11  never  marry  him,"  declared  Aline. 

u  You  '11  write  and  tell  him  that  you  '11  marry  him  at 
the  very  first  opportunity.  There  are  reasons  why  you 
should,  Aline,  grave  reasons." 

"  You  would  n't  have  me  marry  any  one  I  dislike  in- 
tensely ? "  she  flashed. 

"  Would  n't  you  do  it  to  please  me,  even  though  you 
hated  him  violently  ?  I  have  been  going  to  speak  to  you 
about  this.  It's  high  time  you  were  married,  dear,  and 
I  particularly  wish  it.  So  make  friends  with  Tony  as  soon 
as  ever  you  can." 

"I  never  want  to  see  Tony  again  —  until  he  has  gone 
on  his  bended  knees  to  you,"  said  Aline,  with  a  quivering 
lip.  "  I  don't  want  to  breathe  the  same  air  with  any  one 
who  does  n't  think  of  you  as  I  do." 

This  was  the  first  allusion  that  the  girl  had  made  to 
unhappy  things,  since  they  had  become  common  knowledge 
a  month  ago.  She  had  conveyed  to  him  by  increased  ten- 
derness and  devotion  that  she  loved  him  all  the  more  for 
his  suffering,  and  it  had  been  easy  for  him  to  perceive  that 
the  main  facts  of  the  story  were  not  unknown  to  her.  But 
hitherto  there  had  been  absolute  silence  on  the  part  of  each. 
He  had  been  greatly  puzzled  as  to  the  proper  course  he 
should  take.  An  interview  with  Tony  Merewether  that 
morning  had  decided  him.  It  had  been  short,  coldly  cour- 
teous on  the  young  fellow's  side,  who  merely  asked  and 
obtained  consent  to  marry  Aline  forthwith,  and  wistfully 
dignified  on  Jimmie's. 

He  sat  down  on  the  arm  of  a  chair  and  took  her  hand, 
deeply  moved  by  her  passionate  faith  in  him. 

"  Listen,  dear.  I  am  a  dishonoured  man  and  it  is  n't 
*4  209 


Where  Love  Is 

right  that  you  should  live  with  me  any  longer.  Tony,  dear 
good  fellow,  is  no  more  to  blame  for  what  he  thinks  of  me. 
than  the  crazy  wronged  man  who  shot  me.  But  the  only 
way  for  you  to  make  him  think  better  is  to  marry  him. 
No,  don't  interrupt.  Stand  quietly  and  let  me  talk  to  you. 
I  've  been  making  plans  and  I  should  be  tremendously 
upset  if  there  was  any  difficulty.  I  'm  going  to  give  up 
the  house  and  studio." 

Aline  regarded  him  in  frightened  amazement,  and  then 
looked  round  as  if  the  familiar  walls  and  furniture  were  in 
danger  of  incontinent  disappearance. 

"  What  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  I  shall  give  it  up  and  wander  about  painting  abroad, 
so  it 's  absolutely  necessary  that  you  should  marry  Tony. 
Otherwise  I  don't  know  what  on  earth  I  should  do  with 
you." 

He  swung  her  hand  and  looked  smilingly  into  her  eyes. 

"  You  see  I  really  am  in  a  hurry  to  get  rid  of  you,"  he  added. 

Aline  gazed  at  him  for  a  long  time,  gradually  recovering 
from  her  stupefaction.  Then  she  withdrew  her  hand  from 
his  clasp  and  laughed. 

"  You  are  talking  unadulterated  rubbish,  Jimmie,"  she 
said. 

Upon  this  declaration  she  took  her  stand,  and  no  protest 
or  argument  could  move  her.  She  withstood  triumphantly 
a  siege  of  several  days.  Jimmie  tried  to  exert  his  quasi- 
parental  authority.  But  the  submissive  little  girl,  who  had 
always  yielded  when  Jimmie  claimed  obedience,  had  given 
place  to  a  calmly  inflexible  woman.  Jimmie  swore  that  he 
would  not  commit  the  crime  of  spoiling  her  life's  happiness. 
She  replied,  with  a  toss  of  her  head  and  a  pang  of  her  heart, 
that  her  life's  happiness  had  nothing  to  do  with  Tony  Mere- 

210 


The  Incurable  Malady 

wether,  and  that  if  it  did,  the  crime  would  lie  at  his  door 
and  not  at  Jimmie's. 

u  As  for  leaving  you  alone  in  the  wide  world,  I  would 
just  as  soon  think  of  deserting  a  new-born  baby  in  the 
street,"  she  said.  "  You  are  not  fit  to  be  by  yourself. 
And  whether  you  like  it  or  not,  Jimmie,  I  must  stay  and 
look  after  you." 

At  last,  by  the  underhand  methods  which  women  often 
employ  for  the  greater  comfort  of  men,  she  cajoled  him 
into  an  admission.  The  plan  of  giving  up  the  house  had, 
as  its  sole  object,  the  forcing  of  her  hand.  Victorious,  she 
allowed  herself  to  shed  tears  over  his  goodness.  Just  for 
her  miserable  sake  he  had  proposed  to  turn  himself  into  a 
homeless  wanderer  over  the  face  of  Europe. 

"  Do  tell  me,  Jimmie,"  she  said,  "  how  it  feels  to  be  an 
angel !  " 

He  laughed  in  his  old  bright  way. 

"  Very  uncomfortable  when  a  tyrannical  young  woman 
cuts  your  wings  off." 

"  But  I  do  it  for  your  good,  Jimmie,"  she  retorted. 
"  If  I  did  n't,  you  would  be  flying  about  helplessly." 

Thus  the  clouds  that  lay  around  them  were  lit  with  ten- 
der jesting.  During  this  passage  through  the  darkness  he 
never  faltered,  serene  in  his  faith,  having  found  triumphant 
vindication  thereof  in  the  devotion  of  Aline.  That  he  had 
made  a  sacrifice  greater  than  any  human  being  had  a  right 
to  demand  of  another,  he  knew  full  well ;  he  had  been 
driven  on  to  more  perilous  reefs  than  he  had  contemplated ; 
the  man  whom  he  had  imagined  Morland  to  be  would  have 
thrown  all  planks  of  safety  to  the  waves  in  order  to  rescue 
him.  He  felt  acutely  the  pain  of  his  shipwreck  ;  but  he  did 
not  glorify  himself  as  a  martyr :  he  was  satisfied  that  it  was 

211 


Where  Love  Is 

for  the  worshipped  woman's  happiness,  and  that  in  itself 
was  a  reward.  His  catholic  sympathy  even  found  extenu- 
ating circumstances  in  Morland's  conduct.  Once  when 
Aline  inveighed  against  his  desertion,  he  said  in  the  grave 
manner  in  which  he  delivered  himself  of  his  moral 
maxims : 

"  We  ought  never  to  judge  a  human  being's  actions 
until  we  know  his  motives." 

Aline  thought  the  actions  were  quite  sufficient  for  a 
working  philosophy,  but  she  did  not  say  so.  Jimmie  half 
guessed  the  motives  and  judged  leniently.  Though  he  had 
lost  much  that  made  life  sweet  to  him,  his  heart  remained 
unchanged,  his  laugh  rang  true  through  the  house  ;  and 
were  it  not  for  the  loneliness  and  the  dismal  blight  in  her 
own  little  soul,  Aline  would  not  have  realised  that  any 
calamitous  event  had  happened. 

One  other  of  Jimmie's  friends  maintained  relations  with 
him.  This  was  Connie  Deering.  She  had  gone  abroad 
soon  after  the  disaster,  and  moved  by  various  feelings  for 
which  she  rather  forbade  her  impulsive  self  to  account,  had 
written  one  or  two  oddly  expressed  letters.  In  the  first 
one  she  had  touched  lightly  upon  the  difficult  subject.  She 
would  not  have  believed  a  word  of  it,  if  she  had  not  heard 
it  from  his  own  lips.  If  he  would  write  to  her  and  say 
that  it  was  all  a  lie,  she  would  accept  his  word  implicitly. 
He  was  either  a  god  or  a  devil — a  remark  that  filled 
Jimmie  with  considerable  alarm.  A  shrewd  brain  was 
inside  the  pretty  butterfly  head.  In  his  reply  he  ignored 
the  question,  an  example  which  Connie  followed  in  her 
second  letter.  This  consisted  mainly  in  a  rambling  account 
of  the  beauty  of  Stresa  and  the  comforts  and  excellent 
cuisine  of  the  hotel  by  the  lake;  but  a  postscript  informed 

212 


The  Incurable  Malady 

him  that  Norma  was  travelling  about  with  her  for  an  in- 
definite period,  and  that  she  had  heard  nothing  of  Morland, 
who  having  easily  won  his  election  was  now  probably  busy 
with  the  beginning  of  the  autumn  session.  Jimmie,  un- 
versed in  the  postscriptal  ways  of  women,  accepted  the 
information  as  merely  the  literal  statement  of  facts.  A 
wiser  man  would  have  grasped  the  delicate  implication  that 
the  relations  between  the  affianced  pair  were  so  strained 
that  an  interval  of  separation  had  seemed  desirable. 

The  unshaken  faith  of  the  man  in  the  ultimate  righteous- 
ness of  things  kept  him  serene ;  but  the  young  girl  who  had 
no  special  faith,  save  in  the  perfect  righteousness  of  Jimmie 
and  the  dastardly  unrighteousness  of  the  world  in  general 
and  of  Mr.  Anthony  Merewether  in  particular,  found  it 
difficult  to  live  in  these  high  altitudes  of  philosophy.  Indeed 
she  was  a  very  miserable  little  girl  when  Jimmie  was  not  by, 
and  pined,  and  cried  her  heart  out,  and  grew  thin  and  pale 
and  sharp-tempered,  and  filled  her  guardian  with  much  con- 
cern. At  last  Jimmie  took  heroic  measures.  Without 
Aline's  knowledge  he  summoned  Tony  Merewether  to  an 
interview.  The  young  man  came.  Jimmie  received  him 
in  the  studio,  begged  him  to  take  a  seat,  and  rang  the  bell. 
The  middle-aged  housekeeper  ran  down  in  some  perturbation 
at  the  unusual  summons,  for  it  was  Jimmie's  habit  to  shout 
up  the  stairs,  generally  to  Aline,  for  anything  he  wanted. 
She  received  his  instructions.  Miss  Aline  would  oblige 
him  by  coming  down  at  once.  During  the  interval  of 
waiting  he  talked  to  Mr.  Merewether  of  indifferent  things, 
flattering  himself  on  a  sudden  development  of  the  dipi~. 
matic  faculty.  Aline  ran  into  the  room,  and  stopped  short 
at  the  sight  of  the  young  man,  uttering  a  Iktle  cry  of  indig- 
nant surprise.  Jimmie  cleared  his  throat,  but  the  oration 

213 


Where  Love  Is 

that  he  had  prepared  was  never  delivered.     Aline  marched 
straight  up  to  the  offending  lover. 

"  I  don't  see  you  on  your  knees,"  she  said. 

Tony,  who  was  entirely  unexpectant  of  this  uncom- 
promising attitude,  having  taken  it  for  granted  that  by  some 
means  or  other  the  way  had  been  made  smooth  for  him, 
retorted  somewhat  sharply  : 

"  You  're  not  likely  to." 

"  Then  I  wonder,"  said  Aline,  "  at  your  audacity  in 
coming  to  this  house."  She  turned  and  marched  back  to 
the  door,  her  little  figure  very  erect  and  her  dark  eyes 
blazing.  Jimmie  intercepted  her. 

"  Tony  came  at  my  request,  my  child." 

For  the  first  and  only  time  in  her  life  she  cast  a  look  of 
anger  upon  Jimmie. 

"  Let  me  pass,  please,"  she  said,  like  an  outraged  prin- 
cess ;  and  waving  Jimmie  aside,  she  made  the  exit  of 
offended  majesty. 

The  two  men  looked  stupidly  at  each  other.  Their 
position  was  ignominious. 

"  I  did  it  for  the  best,  my  boy,"  said  Jimmie,  taking  up  a 
pipe  which  he  began  to  fill  mechanically.  He  was  just 
the  kind  creature  of  happier  days.  The  young  fellow's 
heart  was  touched.  After  a  minute's  silence  he  committed 
a  passionate  indiscretion. 

"  I  wish  to  God  you  would  tell  me  there  is  something 
hidden  beneath  this  ghastly  story,  and  that  it 's  quite  dif- 
ferent from  what  it  appears  to  be  !  " 

Jimmie  drew  himself  up  and  looked  the  young  man 
between  the  eyes. 

"  That 's  a  question  I  discuss  with  no  human  being,'* 
said  he. 

214 


The  Incurable  Malady 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Tony  Merewether,  in  sincere 
apology.  u  I  would  not  have  taken  such  a  liberty  if  it 
had  n't  been  a  matter  of  life  and  death  for  me.  Perhaps 
you  think  I  ought  to  do  more  or  less  as  Aline  asks  me ;  but 
she  is  too  precious  to  purchase  with  an  infernal  lie.  I  'm 
hanged  if  I  '11  do  it,  and  I  don't  think  you  're  the  man  to 
misunderstand  my  frankness." 

Jimmie  had  lit  his  pipe  during  the  foregoing  speech.  He 
drew  two  or  three  meditative  puffs. 

"  Have  as  little  to  do  with  lies,  my  boy,  as  ever  you  can," 
said  he.  "  And  cheer  up,  all  is  sure  to  come  right  in  the 
end." 

He  was  sunk  in  reflection  for  a  long  time  after  the  youn^ 
man  had  gone,  and  again  for  a  long  time  after  Aline  had 
done  remorseful  penance  for  her  loss  of  temper.  Then  he 
went  out  for  a  walk  and  brought  back  something  in  his 
pocket.  At  dinner-time  he  was  unusually  preoccupied. 
When  the  meal  was  over,  he  fished  up  a  black  bottle  from 
beneath  the  table,  and  going  to  the  sideboard,  came  back 
with  a  couple  of  wineglasses.  Aline  watched  him  as 
though  he  were  performing  some  rite  in  black  magic. 

"This  is  rich  fruity  port,"  said  he,  filling  the  glasses. 
"  Evans,  the  grocer,  told  me  I  should  get  nothing  like  it 
at  the  price  in  London.  You  are  to  drink  it.  It  will  do 
you  good." 

Aline,  still  penitent,  obeyed  meekly. 

"  How  could  you  be  so  extravagant,  Jimmie  ?  "  she  said 
in  mild  protest.  "It  must  have  cost  quite  three  shillings." 

"  And  sixpence,"  said  Jimmie,  unabashed.  He  lifted 
up  his  glass.  "  Now  here 's  to  our  Wanderjahr,  or  as 
much  of  it  as  we  can  run  to." 

"  Whatever  do  you  mean,  Jimmie  ?  " 

215 


Where  Love  Is 

"  I  mean,  .ny  dear,"  said  he,  "  that  we  are  going  to  take 
a  knapsack,  a  tambourine  and  a  flute,  and  appropriate  rib- 
bons for  our  costumes,  and  beg  our  way  through  southern 
Europe." 

He  explained  and  developed  his  plan,  the  result  of  his 
meditations,  in  his  laughing  picturesque  way.  They  were 
doing  nothing  but  eating  expensive  fog  in  November 
London.  A  diet  of  sunshine  and  garlic  would  be  cheaper. 
They  would  walk  under  the  olive-trees  and  drift  about  on 
lagoons,  and  whisper  with  dead  ages  in  the  moonlit  gloom 
of  crumbling  palaces.  They  would  go  over  hills  on 
donkeys.  They  would  steep  their  souls  in  Perugino,  Del 
Sarto,  Giorgione.  They  would  teach  the  gaunt  Italian 
flea  to  respect  British  Keating's  powder.  They  would 
fraternise  with  the  beautiful  maidens  of  Aries  and  sit  on 
the  top  of  Giotto's  Campanile.  They  would  do  all  kinds 
of  impossible  things.  Afford  it  ?  Of  course  they  could. 
Had  he  not  received  his  just  dues  from  the  princess  and 
sold  two  pictures  a  week  or  two  ago?  At  this  point  he 
fell  thinking  for  a  couple  of  dreamy  minutes. 

"  I  meant  to  give  you  a  carriage,  dear,"  he  said  at  last 
in  mild  apology.  "  I  'm  afraid  it  will  have  to  be  a  third- 
class  one." 

"A  fourth  or  fifth  would  be  good  enough  for  me,"  cried 
Aline.  "  Or  I  could  walk  all  the  way  with  you.  Don't 
I  know  you  have  planned  it  out  just  for  my  sake?  " 

"  Rubbish,  my  dear,"  said  Jimmie,  holding  the  precious 
wine  to  the  light.  "I'm  taking  you  because  I  don't  see 
how  I  can  leave  you  behind.  You  have  no  idea  what  an 
abominable  nuisance  you  '11  be." 

Aline  laughed  a  joyous  laugh  which  did  Jimmie  good  to 
hear,  and  came  behind  his  chair  and  put  her  arms  about  his 

216 


The  Incurable  Malady 

neck,  behaving  foolishly  as  a  young  girl  penetrated  with 
the  sense  of  the  loved  one's  goodness  is  privileged  to  do. 
What  she  said  is  of  infinitesimal  importance,  but  it  lifted 
care  from  Jimmie's  heart  and  made  him  as  happy  as  a 
child.  Like  two  children  they  discussed  the  project ;  and 
Aline  fetching  from  the  top  shelf  of  the  bookcase  in 
Jimmie's  bedroom  a  forlorn,  dusty,  yellow-paged  Conti- 
nental Bradshaw,  twenty  years  old,  they  looked  up  phantom 
trains  that  had  long  ceased  running,  speculated  on  the 
merits  of  dead-and-gone  hotels,  and  plunged  into  the  fairy- 
land of  anachronistic  information. 

A  few  days  were  enough  for  Jimmie's  simple  arrange- 
ments ;  and  then  began  the  pilgrimage  of  these  two,  each 
bearing  a  burden,  a  heart-ache,  a  pain  from  which  there 
was  no  escaping,  but  each  bearing  it  with  a  certain  splen- 
dour of  courage  that  made  life  beautiful  to  the  other.  For 
the  girl  suffered  keenly,  as  Jimmie  knew.  She  had  given 
a  passionate  heart  for  good  and  all  to  the  handsome 
young  fellow  who  had  refused  to  bow  the  knee  to  the 
man  whom  he  had  every  reason  to  consider  a  blackguard. 
They  had  come  together,  youth  to  youth,  as  naturally  as 
two  young  birds  in  the  first  mating-season ;  but,  fortunately 
or  unfortunately  for  Aline,  she  was  not  a  bird,  but  a  human 
being  of  unalterable  affections  and  indomitable  character. 
She  had  the  glorious  faith,  quia  incredibile^  in  Jimmie,  and 
rather  than  swerve  aside  from  it  she  would  have  walked  on 
knife  edges  all  the  rest  of  her  days.  So  she  scorned  the 
pain,  and  scorned  herself  for  feeling  it  when  she  saw  the 
serenity  with  which  he  bore  his  cross.  Dimly  she  felt 
that  if  the  truth  were  known  he  would  stand  forth  heroi- 
cally, not  infamously.  She  had  revered  him  as  a  child 
does  its  father;  but  in  that  sweet  and  pure  relationship  of 

217 


Where  Love  Is 

theirs,  she  had  also  watched  him  with  the  minute,  jealous 
solicitude  that  a  mother  devotes  to  an  only  child  who  is 
incapable  of  looking  after  itself.  Nothing  in  his  character 
had  escaped  her.  She  knew  both  his  strength  and  his 
enchanting  weaknesses.  To  her  trained  eyes,  he  was  all 
but  transparent ;  and  of  late  her  quickened  vision  had  read 
in  letters  of  fire  across  his  heart,  "  The  desire  of  the  moth 
for  the  star." 

So  they  travelled  through  the  world,  hand  in  hand,  as  it 
were,  and  drank  together  of  its  beauty.  They  were  mem- 
orable journeyings.  Sleeping-cars  and  palatial  hotels  and 
the  luxuries  of  modern  travel  were  not  for  them.  Aline, 
who  knew  that  Jimmie,  as  far  as  he  himself  was  concerned, 
would  have  slept  upon  wood  quite  as  cheerfully  as  upon 
feathers,  but  for  her  sake  would  have  royally  commanded 
down,  held  the  purse-strings  and  dictated  the  expenditure. 
They  had  long,  wonderful  third-class  journeys,  stopping  at 
every  wayside  station,  at  each  having  some  picturesque 
change  of  company  in  the  ever-crowded,  evil-smelling, 
wooden-seated  compartment.  She  laughed  at  Jimmie's 
fears  as  to  her  discomfort ;  protested  with  energetic  sincer- 
ity that  this  was  the  only  way  in  the  world  to  travel  with 
enjoyment.  It  was  a  never-failing  interest  to  see  Jimmie 
disarm  the  suspicion  of  peasants  by  his  sympathetic  knowl- 
edge of  their  interests,  to  listen  to  his  arguments  with  the 
chance-met  cure,  perspiring  and  polite,  or  the  mild  young 
soldier  in  a  brass  helmet  a  size  too  big  for  him.  In  France 
she  understood  what  they  were  saying,  and  maintained  a 
proper  protectorate  over  Jimmie  by  means  of  a  rough  and 
ready  acquaintance  with  the  vernacular.  But  in  Italy  she 
was  dumb,  could  only  regard  Jimmie  in  open-mouthed 
astonishment  and  admiration.  He  spoke  Italian.  She  had 

218 


The  Incurable  Malady 

known  him  all  her  life  and  never  suspected  this  accom- 
plishment. It  required  some  tact  to  keep  him  in  his  proper 
position  as  interpreter  and  restrain  him  from  acting  on  his 
own  initiative.  In  the  towns  they  put  up  at  little  humble 
hostelries  in  by-streets  and  in  country-places  at  rough  inns, 
eating  rude  fare  and  drinking  sour  wine  with  great  content. 
The  more  they  economised  the  longer  would  the  idyllic 
vagabondage  last. 

Through  southern  France  and  northern  Italy  they  wan- 
dered without  fixed  plans,  going  from  place  to  place  as 
humour  seized  them,  seeking  the  sunshine.  At  last  it 
seemed  to  be  their  normal  existence.  London  with  its 
pain  and  its  passion  grew  remote  like  the  remembered 
anguish  of  a  dream.  Few  communications  reached  them. 
The  local  newspaper  gave  them  all  the  tidings  they  needed 
of  the  great  world.  It  was  a  life  free  from  vexation. 
The  decaying  splendour  of  the  larger  cities  with  their 
treasure-houses  of  painting  and  sculpture  and  their  majestic 
palaces  profoundly  stirred  the  young  girl's  imagination 
and  widened  her  conceptions  and  sympathies.  But  she 
loved  best  to  arrive  by  a  crazy,  old-world  diligence  at  some 
little  townlet  built  on  a  sunny  hillside,  whose  crumbling 
walls  were  the  haunts  of  lizards  and  birds  and  strange  wild- 
flowers  ;  and  having  rested  and  eaten  at  the  dark  little 
albergo,  smelling  of  wine  and  garlic  and  all  Italian  smells, 
to  saunter  out  with  Jimmie  through  the  narrow,  ill-pavedy 
clattering  streets  alive  with  brown  children  and  dark-eyed 
mothers,  and  men  sitting  on  doorsteps  violently  gesticulat- 
ing and  screaming  over  the  game  of  morra,  and  to  explore 
the  impossible  place  from  end  to  end.  A  step  or  two  when 
they  desired  it  would  bring  them  to  the  sudden  peace  of  the 
mediaeval  church,  with  its  memories  of  Romanesque  tradi- 

219 


Where  Love  Is 

tion  and  faint  stirrings  of  Gothic  curiously  reflecting  the 
faith  of  its  builders ;  the  rough,  weather-beaten  casket  of 
one  flawless  gem  of  art,  a  Virgin  smiling  over  the  child 
on  her  lap  at  many  generations  of  worshippers,  superbly 
eternal  and  yet  quaintly  woman.  And  then  they  would 
pass  out  of  the  chilly  streets  and  down  the  declivitous 
pathways  below  the  town  and  sit  together  on  the  hillside, 
in  a  sun-baked  spot  sheltered  from  the  wind.  This  Aline, 
vaguely  conscious  of  the  Infinite,  called  "  hanging  on  the 
edge  of  Nowhere." 

One  day,  on  such  a  hillside  Jimmie  had  [been  painting 
three  brown-faced  children  whom  he  had  cajoled  into 
posing  for  him,  while  Aline  looked  on  dreamily.  The 
urchins,  dismissed  with  a  few  halfpennies,  bowed  polite 
thanks,  the  two  boys  taking  off  their  caps  with  the  air  of 
ragged  princes,  and  scampered  away  like  rabbits  out  of  sight. 

"  There  !  "  cried  Jimmie,  throwing  down  his  brush  and 
holding  out  the  little  panel  at  arm's  length.  "  I  have  never 
done  anything  so  good  in  all  my  life  !  Have  n't  I  got  it  ? 
Is  n't  it  better  than  ten  cathedralfuls  of  sermons  ?  Is  n't 
it  the  quintessence  of  happiness,  the  perfect  trust  in  the 
sweet  earth  to  yield  them  its  goodness  ?  Could  any  one 
after  seeing  that  dare  say  the  world  was  only  a  dank  and 
dismal  prison  where  men  do  nothing  but  sit  and  hear  each 
other  groan  ?  Look  at  it,  Aline.  What  do  you  think 
of  it?" 

"  It 's  just  lovely,  Jimmie,"  said  Aline. 

"  If  I  painted  a  pink  hippopotamus  standing  on  its  head, 
you  would  say  it  was  lovely.  Why  did  n't  you  tell  me 
that  arm  was  out  of  drawing  ?  " 

He  took  up  his  brush  and  made  the  necessary  correction. 
Aline  laughed. 

220 


The  IncurabJe  Malady 

"  Do  you  know  one  of  the  few  things  I  can  remember 
my  father  saying  was  about  you  ?  " 

u  God  bless  my  soul,"  said  Jimmie.  "  I  had  almost 
forgotten  you  ever  had  a  father  —  dear  old  chap  !  What 
did  he  say  ?  " 

"  I  remember  him  telling  you  that  one  day  you  would 
die  of  incurable  optimism.  For  years  I  used  to  think  it 
was  some  horrible  disease,  and  I  used  to  whisper  in  my 
prayers,  c  O  God,  please  cure  Jimmie  of  optimism,'  and 
sometimes  lie  awake  at  nights  thinking  of  it." 

"  Well,  do  you  think  your  prayer  has  been  answered  ?  " 
asked  Jimmie,  amused. 

She  shifted  herself  a  little  nearer  him  and  put  her  hand 
on  his  knee. 

"  Thank  goodness,  no.  You  've  got  it  as  bad  as  ever 
—  and  I  believe  I  've  caught  it."  Then,  between  a  sob 
and  a  laugh,  she  added  : 

41  Oh,  Jimmie  dear,  your  stupid  old  head  could  never 
tell  you  what  you  have  done  for  me  since  we  have  been 
abroad.  If  I  had  stayed  at  home  I  think  I  should  have 
died  of — of — of  malignant  pessimism.  You  will  never, 
never,  never  understand." 

w  And  will  you  ever  understand  what  you  have  done  for 
me,  my  child  ? "  said  Jimmie,  gravely.  "  We  won't  talk 
about  these  things.  They  are  best  in  our  hearts." 


221 


Chapter  XVIII 
A    RUDDERLESS   SHIP 

THAT  autumn  pressed  heavily  upon  Mrs.  Hardacre. 
Norma's  engagement,  without  being  broken  off, 
was  indefinitely  suspended,  and  Norma,  by 
going  abroad  with  Mrs.  Deering  immediately  on  her  re- 
turn from  Cornwall,  had  placed  herself  beyond  reach  of 
maternal  influence.  It  is  true  that  Mrs.  Hardacre  wrote 
many  letters  ;  but  as  Norma's  replies  mainly  consisted  of 
a  line  or  two  on  a  picture  post-card,  it  is  to  be  doubted 
whether  she  ever  read  them.  Mrs.  Hardacre  began  to 
feel  helpless.  Morland  could  give  her  little  assistance. 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  her  appeals.  He  was  per- 
fectly determined  to  marry  Norma,  but  trusted  to  time  to 
restore  her  common-sense  and  lead  her  into  the  path  of 
reason.  Nothing  that  he  could  do  would  be  of  any  avail. 
Mrs.  Hardacre  urged  him  to  join  the  ladies  on  the  Continent 
and  bring  matters  to  a  crisis.  He  replied  that  an  election 
was  crisis  enough  for  one  man  in  a  year,  and  furthermore 
the  autumn  session  necessitated  his  attendance  in  the 
House.  He  was  quite  satisfied,  he  told  her  stolidly,  with 
things  as  they  were,  and  in  the  meantime  was  actually 
finding  an  interest  in  his  new  political  life.  But  Mrs. 
Hardacre  shared  neither  his  satisfaction  nor  his  interest, 
a  mother's  point  of  view  being  so  different  from  that  of  a 
lover. 


222 


A  Rudderless  Ship 

As  if  the  loss  of  ducal  favour  and  filial  obedience  were 
not  enough  for  the  distraught  lady,  her  husband  one  morn- 
ing threw  a  business  letter  upon  the  table,  and  with  pet- 
ulant curses  on  the  heads  of  outside  brokers,  incoherently 
explained  that  he  was  ruined.  They  were  liars  and  knaves 
and  thieves,  he  sputtered.  He  would  drag  them  all  into 
the  police  court,  he  would  write  to  the  "  Times,"  he  would 
go  and  horsewhip  the  blackguards.  Damme  if  he  would  n't ! 

"  I  wish  the  blackguards  could  horsewhip  you,"  re- 
marked his  wife,  grimly.  "  Have  you  sufficient  brains  to 
realise  what  an  unutterable  fool  you  have  been  ?  " 

If  he  did  not  realise  it  by  the  end  of  the  week,  it  was 
not  Mrs.  Hardacre's  fault.  She  reduced  the  unhappy  man 
to  craven  submission  and  surreptitious  nipping  of  old 
brandy  in  order  to  keep  up  the  feeble  spirit  that  remained 
in  him,  and  took  the  direction  of  affairs  into  her  own 
hands.  They  were  not  ruined,  but  a  considerable  sum  of 
money  had  been  lost  through  semi-idiotic  speculation,  and 
for  a  time  strict  economy  was  necessary.  By  Christmas 
the  establishment  in  the  country  was  broken  up,  a  tenant 
luckily  found  for  Heddon  Court,  and  a  small  furnished 
house  taken  in  Devonshire  Place.  These  arrangements 
gave  Mrs.  Hardacre  much  occupation,  but  they  did  not 
tend  to  soften  her  character.  When  Norma  came  home, 
sympathetically  inclined  and  honestly  desirous  to  smooth 
down  asperities  —  for  she  appreciated  the  aggravating  folly 
of  her  father — she  found  her  advances  coldly  repulsed. 

"  What  is  the  good  of  saying  you  are  sorry  for  me," 
Mrs.  Hardacre  asked  snappishly,  "  when  you  refuse  to  do 
the  one  thing  that  can  mend  matters  ? " 

Then  followed  the  old,  old  story  which  Norma  had  heard 
so  often  in  days  past,  but  now  barbed  with  a  new  moral  and 

223 


Where  Love  Is 

adorned  with  new  realism.     Norma  listened  wearily,  sur- 
prised   at    her   own   lack   of   retort.     When    the    familiar 
homily  came  to  an  end,  her  reply  was  almost  meek : 
"  Give  me  a  little  longer  time  to  think  over  it." 
"  You  had  better  cut  it  as  short  as  possible,"  said   Mrs. 
Hardacre,  "  or  you  may  find  yourself  too  late.     As  it  is, 
you  are  going  off.     What  have  you  been  doing  to  your- 
self?    You  look  thirty." 
"  I  feel  fifty,"  said  Norma. 

"You  had  better  go  and  have  your  face  massaged,  or 
you  '11  soon  not  be  fit  to  be,  seen." 

"  I  think  I  want  a  course  of  soul  massage,"  answered 
Norma,  with  a  hard  little  laugh. 

But  when  she  was  alone  in  her  own  room,  she  looked 
anxiously  at  her  face  in  the  glass.  Her  mother  had  con- 
firmed certain  dismal  imaginings.  She  had  grown  thinner, 
older  looking ;  tiny  lines  were  just  perceptible  at  the  corners 
of  eyes  and  lips  and  across  the  forehead.  The  fresh  bloom 
of  youth  was  fading  from  her  skin.  She  was  certainly 
going  off.  She  had  not  been  a  happy  woman  since  her 
precipitate  flight  to  Cornwall.  The  present  discovery 
added  anxiety  to  depression. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards  Mrs.  Hardacre  returned  to  the 
unedifying  attack.  Had  Norma  written  to  Morland  to 
inform  him  of  her  arrival  ?  Norma  replied  that  she  had  no 
inordinate  longing  to  see  Morland.  Mrs.  Hardacre  used 
language  that  only  hardened  and  soured  women  of  fashion 
who  are  beginning  to  feel  the  pinch  of  poverty  dare  use  nowa- 
days. It  is  far  more  virulent  than  a  fishwife's,  for  every 
phrase  touches  a  jangling  nerve  and  every  gibe  tears  a  deli- 
cate fibre,  whereas  Billingsgate  merely  shocks  and  belabours. 
Norma  bore  it  in  silence  for  some  time,  and  then  went 

224 


A  Rudderless  Ship 

away  quivering  from  head  to  foot.  A  new  and  what 
seemed  a  horrible  gift  had  been  bestowed  upon  her  —  the 
power  to  feel.  Once  a  sarcastic  smile,  a  scornful  glance,  a 
withering  retort  would  have  carried  her  in  triumph  from  her 
mother's  presence.  Secure  in  her  own  callous  serenity,  she 
would  have  given  scarcely  a  further  thought  to  the  quarrel. 
Now  things  had  inexplicably  changed.  Her  mother's  stabs 
hurt.  Some  curious  living  growth  within  her  was  wrung 
with  pain.  She  could  only  grope  humbled  and  broken  to 
her  room  and  stare  at  nothing,  wishing  she  could  cry  like 
other  women. 

No  wonder  she  looked  old,  when  the  spirit  had  left  her 
and  taken  with  it  the  cold,  proud  setting  of  the  features 
that  had  given  her  beauty  its  peculiar  stamp.  Dimly  she 
realised  the  disintegration.  When  a  nature  which  has  taken 
a  colossal  vanity  for  strength  and  has  relied  thereon  un- 
questioningly  for  protection  against  a  perilous  world,  once 
loses  grip  of  that  sublime  mainstay,  it  is  impossible  for  it  to 
take  firm  hold  again.  It  must  content  itself  with  lesser 
planks  or  flounder  helplessly,  fearful  of  imminent  ship- 
wreck. Norma,  during  those  autumn  months,  had  found 
her  strength  vanity.  The  fact  in  rude,  symbolic  form  was 
brought  home  to  her  a  short  time  after  her  return. 

It  was  a  bright  Sunday  afternoon,  when,  on  her  way  to 
pay  a  call  in  Kensington,  she  had  dismissed  her  cab  at 
Lancaster  Gate  and  was  walking  through  Kensington 
Gardens.  Half-way  a  familiar  figure  met  her  eye.  It  was 
her  own  maid  sitting  on  a  bench  with  a  man  by  her  side. 
The  girl  was  wearing  a  cheap  long  jacket  over  an  elaborate 
dress,  absurdly  light  for  the  time  of  year.  It  caught 
Norma's  attention,  and  then  suddenly  it  flashed  upon  her 
that  it  was  the  dress  she  had  given  to  be  burned  months 
l&  225 


Where  Love  Is 

ago.  She  walked  on,  aching  with  a  sense  of  the  futility 
of  grandiose  determinations.  She  had  consigned  the  gar- 
ment stained  with  Jimmie's  blood  contemptuously  to  the 
flames.  It  was  incongruously  whole  in  Kensington  Gar- 
dens. She  had  cast  her  love  for  Jimmie  out  of  her  heart 
in  the  same  spirit  of  comedic  tragedy.  Forlorn  and  be- 
draggled it  was  still  there,  mockingly  refusing  to  be  reduced 
to  its  proper  dust  and  ashes.  Her  strength  had  not  availed 
her  to  cast  it  out.  Her  strength  was  a  vain  thing.  Yet 
being  forlorn  and  bedraggled  the  love  was  as  hateful  as  the 
unconsumed  garment.  It  ha\inted  her  like  an  unpurged 
offence.  The  newspaper  details  had  made  it  reek  disgust- 
fully.  At  times  Connie  Deering's  half  faith  filled  her  with 
an  extravagant  hope  that  these  sordid  horrors  which  had 
sullied  the  one  pure  and  beautiful  thing  that  had  come  into 
her  life  were  nothing  but  a  ghastly  mistake  ;  that  it  was,  as 
Connie  suggested,  a  dark  mystery  from  which  if  Jimmie 
chose  he  could  emerge  clean.  But  then  her  judgment, 
trained  from  childhood  to  look  below  the  surface  of  even 
smiling  things  and  find  them  foul,  rebelled.  The  man  had 
proclaimed  himself,  written  himself  down  a  villain.  It  was 
in  black  and  white.  And  not  only  a  villain  —  that  might  be 
excusable  —  but  a  hypocritical  canting  villain,  which  was  the 
unforgivable  sin.  Every  woman  has  a  Holy  Ghost  of  sorts 
within  her. 

Norma  did  not  write  to  Morland.  She  dreaded  renewal 
of  relations,  and  yet  she  had  not  the  courage  to  cut  him 
finally  adrift.  The  thought  of  withered  spinsterhood  be- 
neath her  father's  roof  was  a  dismaying  vision.  Mar- 
riage was  as  essential  as  ever  to  the  scheme  of  her  future. 
Why  not  with  Morland  ?  Her  mother's  words,  though 
spoken  as  with  the  tongues  of  asps,  were  those  of  wisdom. 

226 


A  Rudderless  Ship 

All  that  she  could  bring  to  a  husband  was  her  beauty,  her 
superb  presence,  her  air  of  royalty,  These  gone,  her 
chances  were  as  illusory  as  those  of  the  pinched  and  faded 
gentlewomen  who  tittle-tattled  at  Cosford  tea-parties. 
Another  year,  and  at  the  present  rate  of  decay  her  beauty 
would  have  vanished  into  the  limbo  of  last  year's  snows. 
She  exaggerated  ;  but  what  young  woman  of  six-and-twenty 
placed  as  she  has  not  looked  tremulously  in  her  mirror  and 
seen  feet  of  crows  and  heaven  knows  what  imaginary 
fowls  that  prey  upon  female  charms  ?  At  six-and-thirty 
she  smiles  with  wistful,  longing  regret  at  the  remembered 
image.  Yet  youth,  happily,  is  not  cognisant  of  youth's 
absurdities.  It  takes  itself  tragically.  Thus  did  Norma. 
Her  dowry  of  beauty  was  dwindling.  She  must  marry 
within  the  year.  Sometimes  she  wished  that  Theodore 
Weever,  who  had  not  yet  discovered  his  decorative  wife 
and  had  managed  to  find  himself  at  various  places  which 
she  had  visited  abroad,  would  come  like  a  Paladin  and  de- 
liver her  from  her  distress  and  carry  her  off  to  his  castle  in 
Fifth  Avenue.  He  would  at  least  interest  her  as  a  human 
being,  which  Morland,  with  all  his  solid  British  qualities, 
had  never  succeeded  in  doing.  But  Theodore  Weever  had 
not  spoken.  He  retained  the  imperturbability  of  the  bald 
marble  bust  of  himself  that  he  had  taken  her  to  see  in  a 
Parisian  sculptor's  studio.  There  only  remained  Morland. 
But  for  some  reason,  for  which  she  could  not  account,  he 
seemed  the  last  man  on  earth  she  desired  to  marry.  When 
she  had  written  to  him,  soon  after  her  flight  to  Cornwall,  to 
beg  for  a  postponement  of  the  wedding,  giving  him  the- 
very  vaguest  reasons  for  her  request,  he  had  assented  with 
*  cheerfulness  ill  befitting  an  impatient  lover.  It  would  be 
impertinence,  he  wrote,  for  him  to  enquire  further  into  her 

227 


Where  Love  Is 

reasons.  She  was  too  much  a  woman  of  the  world  to  act 
without  due  consideration,  and  provided  that  he  could  look 
forward  to  the  very  great  happiness  of  one  day  calling  her 
his  wife,  he  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  whatever  she  chose 
to  arrange.  The  absence  of  becoming  fervour,  in  spite  of 
her  desire  to  postpone  the  dreaded  day,  produced  a  feeling 
of  irritated  disappointment.  None  of  us,  least  of  all  wo- 
men, invariably  like  to  be  taken  at  our  word.  If  Morland 
lay  so  little  value  upon  her  as  that,  he  might  just  as  well 
give  her  up  altogether.  She  replied  impulsively,  suggesting 
a  rupture  of  the  engagement. '  Morland,  longing  for  time  to 
raise  him  from  the  abasement  in  which  he  grovelled,  had 
welcomed  the  proposal  to  defer  the  marriage  ;  but  as  he 
smarted  at  the  same  time  under  a  sense  of  wrong  —  had  he 
not  been  betrayed  by  his  own  familiar  friend  and  the  wo- 
man he  loved  ?  —  he  now  unequivocally  refused  to  accept 
her  suggestion.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  marry  her. 
He  had  made  all  his  arrangements  for  marrying  her.  The 
check  he  had  experienced  had  stimulated  a  desire  which 
only  through  unhappy  circumstances  had  languished  for  a 
brief  season.  He  persuaded  himself  that  he  was  more  in 
love  with  her  than  ever.  At  all  costs,  in  his  stupid,  dogged 
way,  he  determined  to  marry  her.  He  told  her  so  bluntly. 
He  merely  awaited  her  good  pleasure.  Norma  accepted  the 
situation  and  thought,  by  going  abroad,  to  leave  it  at  home 
to  take  care  of  itself.  It  might  die  of  inanition.  Some- 
thing miraculous  might  happen  to  transform  it  entirely. 
She  returned  and  found  it  alive  and  quite  undeveloped.  It 
grinned  at  her  with  a  leer  which  she  loathed  from  the 
depths  of  her  soul ;  and  the  more  Mrs.  Hardacre  pointed 
at  it  the  more  it  leered,  and  the  greater  became  the 
loathing. 

228 


A  Rudderless  Ship 

At  last  Mrs.  Hardacre  took  matters  into  her  own  hands 
and  summoned  Morland  to  London.  "  Norma  is  in  a 
green,  depressed  state,"  she  wrote,  "  and  I  think  your 
proper  place  is  by  her  side.  I  imagine  she  regrets  her 
foolishness  in  postponing  the. marriage  and  is  ashamed  to 
confess  it.  A  few  words  with  you  face  to  face  would 
bring  her  back  to  her  old  self.  Women  have  these  idiotic 
ways,  my  dear  Morland,  and  men  being  so  much  stronger 
and  saner  must  make  generous  allowances.  I  confidently 
expect  you." 

Morland's  vanity,  spurred  by  this  letter,  brought  him 
in  a  couple  of  days  to  London. 

"  My  dear  Morland,  this  is  a  surprise,"  cried  Mrs. 
Hardacre  dissemblingly,  as  he  entered  the  drawing-room, 
"we  were  only  just  talking  of  you.  I'll  ring  for  another 
cup." 

She  moved  to  the  bell  by  the  side  of  the  fireplace,  and 
Norma  and  Morland  shook  hands  with  the  conventional 
words  of  greeting. 

"  I  hope  you  've  had  a  good  time  abroad  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  The  usual  thing,  the  usual  places,  the 
usual  people,  the  usual  food.  In  fact,  a  highly  successful 
pursuit  of  the  usual.  I  've  invented  a  verb  — l  to  usualise.' 
I  suppose  you  've  been  usualising  too  ?  " 

The  sudden  sight  of  him  had  braced  her,  and  instinc- 
tively she  had  adopted  her  old,  cool  manner  as  defensive 
armour.  Her  reply  pleased  him.  There  was  something 
pungent  in  her  speech,  irreconcilable  in  her  attitude,  which 
other  women  did  not  possess.  He  was  not  physiognomist 
or  even  perceptive  enough  to  notice  the  subtle  change  in 
her  expression.  He  noted,  as  he  remarked  to  her  later, 
that  she  was  u  a  bit  off  colour,"  but  he  attributed  it  to 

229 


Where  Love  Is 

the  muggy  weather,  and  never  dreamed  of  regarding  her 
otherwise  than  as  radically  the  same  woman  who  had  en- 
gaged herself  to  marry  him  in  the  summer.  To  him  she 
was  still  the  beautiful  shrew  whose  taming  appealed  to 
masculine  instincts.  The  brown  hair  sweeping  up  in  a 
wave  from  the  forehead,  the  finely  chiselled  sensitive  fea- 
tures, the  clear  brown  eyes,  the  mocking  lips,  the  superb 
poise  of  the  head,  the  stately  figure  perfectly  set  off  in  the 
dark  blue  tailor-made  dress,  all  combined  to  impress  him 
with  a  realisation  of  the  queenliness  of  the  presence  that 
had  grown  somewhat  shadowy  of  late  to  his  unimaginative 
mental  vision. 

"  And  how  do  you  like  Parliament  ?  "  she  asked  casually, 
when  the  teacup  had  been  brought  and  handed  to  him  filled. 

"  I  find  it  remarkably  interesting,"  he  replied  senten- 
tiously.  "  It  is  dull  at  times,  of  course,  but  no  man  can 
sit  on  those  green  benches  and  not  feel  he  is  helping  to 
shape  the  destinies  of  a  colossal  Empire." 

"  Is  that  what  you  really  feel  —  or  is  it  what  you  say 
when  you  are  responding  for  the  House  of  Commons  at  a 
public  dinner  ?  "  asked  Norma. 

Morland  hesitated  for  a  moment  between  huffiness  and 
indulgence.  In  spite  of  his  former  gibes  at  the  stale  un- 
profitableness of  parliamentary  life,  he  had  always  had  the 
stolid  Briton's  reverence  for  our  Institutions,  and  now  that 
he  was  actually  a  legislator,  his  traditions  led  him  to  take 
himself  seriously. 

"  I  have  become  a  very  keen  politician,  I  assure  you," 
he  answered.  "If  you  saw  the  amount  of  work  that  falls 
on  me,  you  would  be  astonished.  If  it  were  n't  for  Manisty 
—  that 's  my  secretary,  you  know  —  I  don't  see  how  I 
could  get  through  it." 

230 


A  Rudderless  Ship 

"  I  always  wonder,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre,  "  how  members 
manage  to  find  time  for  anything.  They  work  like  galley- 
slaves  for  nothing  at  all.  I  regard  them  as  simply  sacri- 
ficing themselves  for  the  public  good." 

"  A  member  of  Parliament  is  the  noblest  work  of  God. 
Don't,  mother.  Please  leave  us  our  illusions." 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  asked  Morland. 

"  One  is  that  there  are  a  few  decently  selfish  people  left 
in  an  age  of  altruists,"  said  Norma. 

She  talked  for  the  sake  of  talking,  careless  of  the  stupid 
poverty  of  her  epigram.  Morland,  as  the  healthy  country 
gentleman  alternating  with  the  commonplace  man  about 
town,  was  a  passable  type  enough,  though  failing  to  excite 
exuberant  admiration.  But  Morland,  with  his  narrow 
range  of  sympathies  and  pathetic  ignorance  of  the  thought 
of  the  day,  posing  solemnly  as  a  trustee  of  the  British 
Empire,  aroused  a  scorn  which  she  dare  not  express  in 
words. 

"  I  don't  know  that  we  are  all  altruists,"  replied  Morland, 
good-tempered ly.  "  If  we  are  good  little  members  of  Par- 
liament, we  may  be  rewarded  with  baronetcies  and  things. 
But  one  has  to  play  the  game  thoroughly.  It 's  worth  it, 
is  n't  it,  even  from  your  point  of  view,  Norma  ?  " 

"  You  're  just  the  class  of  man  the  government  does  best 
in  rewarding,"  remarked  Mrs.  Hardacre,  with  her  wintry 
smile  that  was  meant  to  be  conciliatory.  "  A  man  of  birth 
and  position  upholds  the  dignity  of  a  title  and  is  a  credit  to 
his  party." 

Morland  laughingly  observed  that  it  was  early  in  the  day 
to  be  thinking  of  parliamentary  honours.  He  had  not  even 
made  his  maiden  speech.  As  Norma  remained  silent,  the 
conversation  languished.  Presently  Mrs.  Hardacre  rose. 

231 


Where  Love  Is 

tl  I  have  no  doubt  you  two  want  to  have  a  talk  together. 
Won't  you  stay  and  dine  with  us,  Morland  ?  " 

He  glanced  at  Norma,  but  failing  to  read  an  endorse- 
ment of  the  invitation  in  her  face,  made  an  excuse  for 
declining. 

"  Then  I  will  say  good-bye  and  leave  you.  I  would  n't 
stand  any  nonsense  if  I  were  you,"  she  added  in  a  whisper 
through  the  door  which  he  held  open  for  her. 

He  sauntered  up  to  the  fireplace  and  stood  on  the 
hearth-rug,  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  Norma,  looking  at 
him  from  her  easy-chair,  wondered  at  a  certain  ignobility 
that  she  detected  for  the  first  time  beneath  his  bluff,  pros- 
perous air.  In  spite  of  birth  and  breeding  he  looked 
common. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said.  "  We  had  better  have  it  out  at  once. 
What  is  it  to  be  ?  I  must  have  an  answer  sooner  or  later." 

"  Can't  it  be  later  ?  " 

u  If  you  insist  upon  it.  I  'm  not  going  to  hold  a  pistol 
to  your  head,  my  dear  girl.  Only  you  must  admit  that 
I  've  treated  you  with  every  consideration.  I  have  n't 
worried  you.  You  took  it  into  your  head  to  put  off  our 
marriage.  I  felt  you  had  your  reasons  and  I  raised  no  ob- 
jection. But  we  can't  go  on  like  this  forever,  you  know." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Norma. 

"  Human  nature.  I  am  in  love  with  you,  and  want  to 
marry  you." 

"  But  supposing  I  am  not  in  love  with  you,  Morland. 
I  've  never  pretended  to  be,  have  I  ?  " 

"  We  need  n't  go  over  old  ground.  I  accepted  all  that 
at  the  beginning.  The  present  state  of  affairs  is  that  we 
are  engaged ;  when  are  we  going  to  be  married  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I    don't  know,"  said    Norma,   desperately.     "  I 

232 


A  Rudderless  Ship 

have  n't  thought  of  it  seriously.  I  know  I  have  behaved 
like  a  beast  to  you  —  you  must  forgive  me.  At  times  it  has 
seemed  as  though  I  was  not  the  right  sort  to  marry  and 
bring  children  into  the  world.  I  should  loathe  it !  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Morland,  in  a  tone  he  meant 
to  be  soothing.  "  Besides —  " 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say  —  or  at  any  rate 
what  you  would  like  to  say.  It 's  scarcely  decent  to  talk  of 
such  things.  But  I  have  n't  been  brought  up  in  a  nunnery. 
I  wish  to  God  I  had  been.  At  all  events,  I  am  frank.  I 
would  loathe  it  — all  that  side  of  it.  Could  n't  we  suppress 
that  side?  Oh,  yes,  I  am  going  to  speak  of  it — it  has 
been  on  my  mind  for  months,"  she  burst  out,  as  Morland 
made  a  quick  step  towards  her. 

He  did  not  allow  her  to  continue.  With  his  hand  on 
the  arm  of  her  chair,  he  bent  down  over  her. 

"  You  are  talking  wild  nonsense,"  he  said ;  and  she 
flushed  red  and  did  not  meet  his  eyes.  "When  a  man 
marries,  he  marries  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  term,  unless 
he  is  an  outrageous  imbecile.  There  is  to  be  no  question  of 
that  sort  of  thing.  I  thought  you  knew  your  world  better. 
I  want  you  —  you  yourself.  Don't  you  understand  that  ?  " 

Norma  put  out  her  hand  to  push  him  away.  He  seized 
it  in  his.  She  snatched  it  from  him. 

"Let  me  get  up,"  she  said,  waving  him  off.  She 
brushed  past  him,  as  she  rose. 

"  We  can't  go  on  talking.  What  I  've  said  has  made  it 
impossible.  Let  us  change  the  subject.  How  long  are 
you  going  to  stay  in  town  ?  " 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  change  the  subject,"  said  Morland, 
rather  brutally.  "  I  'm  far  too  much  interested  in  it. 
Hang  it  all,  Norma,  you  do  owe  me  something." 

233 


Where  Love  Is 

"  What  do  I  owe  you  ?  What  ? "  she  asked  with  a 
sudden  flash  in  her  eyes. 

"You  are  a  woman  of  common-sense.  I  leave  you  to 
guess.  You  admit  you  have  n't  treated  me  properly. 
You  have  nothing  to  complain  of  as  far  as  I  am  concerned. 
Now,  have  you  ?  " 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  No.  I  suppose  not,  as  things  go. 
Once  I  did  try  to  —  to  feel  more  like  other  women  —  and 
to  make  some  amends.  I  told  you  that  perhaps  we  were 
making  a  mistake  in  excluding  sentiment.  If  you  had 
chosen,  you  could  have  —  I,  don't  know  —  made  me  care 
for  you,  perhaps.  But  you  did  n't  choose.  You  treated 
me  as  if  I  were  a  fool.  Very  likely  I  was." 

"When  was  that  ?"  asked  Morland,  with  a  touch  of 
sarcasm.  "  I  certainly  don't  remember." 

"  It  was  the  last  night  we  had  any  talk  together  —  in  the 
billiard-room.  The  night  before  —  before  the  garden-party." 

He  turned  away  with  an  involuntary  exclamation  of 
anger.  He  remembered  now,  tragic  events  having  put  the 
incident  out  of  his  mind.  He  was  caught  in  a  trap. 

"  I  did  n't  think  you  meant  it,"  he  said,  hurrying  to  the 
base  excuse.  "  Women  sometimes  consider  it  their  duty 
to  say  such  things  —  to  act  a  little  comedy,  out  of  kind- 
ness. Some  fellows  expect  it.  I  thought  it  would  be 
more  decent  to  let  you  see  that  I  did  n't." 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Norma  stood  in  the  centre 
of  the  room,  biting  her  lip,  her  head  moving  slightly  from 
side  to  side;  she  was  seeking  to  formulate  her  thoughts 
in  conventional  terms.  Her  che  >k  grew  a  shade  paler. 

"  Listen,"  she  said  at  length.  "  I  am  anything  bad  you 
like  to  call  me.  But  I  'm  not  a  woman  who  cajoles  men. 
And  I  'm  not  a  liar.  I  'm  far  too  cynical  to  lie.  Truth  is 

234 


A  Rudderless  Ship 

much  more  deadly.  I  hate  lying.  That 's  the  main  rea- 
son why  I  broke  with  a  man  I  cared  for  more  than  for  any 
other  man  I  have  ever  met  —  because  he  lied.  You  know 
whom  I  mean." 

He  faced  her  with  a  conscious  effort.  Even  at  this 
moment  of  strain  and  anger,  Nortna  was  struck  again  with 
the  lurking  air  of  ignobility  on  his  face;  but  she  only 
remembered  it  afterwards.  He  brazened  it  out. 

"Jimmie  Padgate,  I  suppose." 

"  I  can't  forgive  him  for  lying." 

"  I  don't  see  how  he  lied.  He  faced  the  music,  at  any 
rate,  like  a  man,"  said  Morland,  compelled  by  a  remnant 
of  common  decency  to  defend  Jimmie. 

"All  his  pose  beforehand  was  a  lie  —  unless  the  dis- 
closures afterwards  were  lies  — " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Morland,  sharply. 

"  Oh,  never  mind.  We  have  not  met  to  discuss  the 
matter.  I  don't  know  why  I  referred  to  it." 

She  paused  for  a  moment.  She  had  begun  her  tirade  at 
a  white  heat.  Suddenly  she  had  cooled  down,  and  felt 
lassitude  in  mind  and  limbs.  An  effort  brought  her  to  a 
lame  conclusion. 

"  You  accused  me  of  acting  a  comedy.  I  was  n't  acting. 
I  was  perfectly  sincere.  I  have  been  absolutely  frank  with 
you  from  the  hour  you  proposed  to  me." 

"  Well,  I  'm  sorry  for  having  misunderstood  you.  I  beg 
your  pardon,"  said  Morland.  They  took  up  the  conversa- 
tion from  the  starting-point,  but  listlessly,  dispiritedly.  The 
reference  to  Jimmie  had  awakened  the  ever-living  remorse 
in  Morland's  not  entirely  callous  soul.  The  man  did 
suffer,  at  times  acutely.  And  now  to  act  the  conscious 
comedy  in  the  face  of  Norma's  expressed  abhorrence  was  a 

235 


Where  Love  Is 

difficult  and  tiring  task.  Unwittingly  he  grew  gentler;  and 
Norma,  her  anger  spent,  weakly  yielded  to  the  change 
of  tone. 

"  We  have  settled  nothing,  after  all  our  talk,"  he  said  at 
last,  looking  at  his  watch.  "  Don't  you  think  we  had 
better  fix  it  up  now  ?  Society  expects  us  to  get  married. 
What  will  people  say  ?  Come  —  what  about  Easter  ?  " 

Norma  passed  her  hand  wearily  over  her  eyes. 

"  I  ought  n't  to  marry  you  at  all.  I  should  loathe  it, 
as  I  said.  I  should  never  get  to  care  for  you  in  that  way. 
You  see  I  am  honest.  Let  us  break  off  the  engagement." 

"Well,  look  here,"  said  Morland,  not  unkindly,  "let  us 
compromise.  I  '11  come  back  in  three  days'  time.  You  '11 
either  say  it 's  off  altogether  or  we  '11  be  married  at  Easter. 
Will  that  do  ?  " 

"  Very  well,"  said  Norma. 

When  Mrs.  Hardacre  came  for  news  of  the  interview, 
Norma  told  her  of  the  arrangement. 

"  Which  is  it  going  to  be  ?  "   she  asked. 

Norma  set  her  teeth.     "  I  can't  marry  him,"  she  said. 

But  the  proud  spirit  of  Norma  Hardacre  was  broken. 
The  three  days'  Inferno  that  Mrs.  Hardacre  created  in  the 
house  drove  the  girl  to  desperation.  Her  father  came  to 
her  one  day  with  the  tears  running  down  his  puffy  cheeks. 
Unknown  to  her  mother  he  had  borrowed  money  from 
Morland,  which  he  had  lost  on  the  Stock  Exchange. 
Norma  looked  in  her  mirror,  and  found  herself  old,  ugly, 
hag-ridden.  Anything  was  preferable  to  the  torture  and 
degradation  of  her  home.  The  next  time  that  Morland 
called  he  stayed  to  dinner,  and  the  wedding  was  definitely 
fixed  for  Easter. 


236 


Chapter  XIX 
ABANA   AND    PHARPAR 

"  "•    "^  O  you  know,  Miss  Hardacre,  that  I  once  had  a 

I      wife  ?  "  said  Theodore  Weever,  suddenly. 
-» — ^  It  was  after  dinner  at  the  Wolff-Salamons', 

who,  it  may  be  remembered,  had  lent  their  house  to  the 
Hardacres  in  the  summer. 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  it,"  said  Norma,  wondering  at  the 
irrelevance  of  the  remark,  for  they  had  just  been  discussing 
the  great  painter's  merciless  portrait  of  their  hostess,  which 
simpered  vulgarly  at  them  from  the  wall.  They  were 
sitting  on  a  sofa  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 

41  Yes,"  said  Weever.  "  She  died  young.  She  came 
from  a  New  England  village,  and  played  old-fashioned 
tunes  on  the  piano,  and  believed  in  God." 

Not  a  flicker  passed  over  his  smooth  waxen  face  or 
a  gleam  of  sentiment  appeared  in  his  pale  steady  eyes. 
Norma  glanced  round  at  the  little  assembly,  mainly  com- 
posed of  fleshy  company  promoters,  who,  as  far  as  decency 
allowed,  continued  among  themselves  the  conversation  that 
had  circulated  over  the  wine  downstairs,  and  their  women- 
kind,  who  adopted  the  slangy  manners  of  smart  society  and 
talked  "  bridge  "  to  such  men  as  would  listen  to  them. 
Then  she  glanced  back  at  Weever. 

"  I  don't  want  any  more  wives  of  that  sort,"  he  went 
on.  u  I  've  outgrown  them.  I  have  no  use  for  them. 

237 


Where  Love  Is 

They  would  wilt  like  a  snow  anemone  in  this  kind  of 
atmosphere." 

"  Is  it  your  favourite  atmosphere,  then  ?  "  Norma  asked, 
by  way  of  saying  something. 

"  More  or  less.  Perhaps  I  like  it  not  quite  so  mephitic  — 
You  are  racking  your  brains  to  know  why  I  'm  telling  you 
about  my  wife.  I  '11  explain.  In  a  little  churchyard  in 
Connecticut  is  a  coffin,  and  in  that  coffin  is  what  a  man 
who  is  going  to  ask  a  woman  to  marry  him  ought  to 
give  her.  I  could  never  give  a  quiet-eyed  New  England 
girl  anything  again.  At  my  age  she  would  bore  me  to 
death.  But  I  could  give  the  woman  who  is  accustomed 
to  hot-houses  a  perfectly  regulated  temperature." 

Norma  looked  at  the  imperturbable  face,  half  touched 
by  his  unsuspected  humanity,  half  angered  by  his  assurance. 

"  Are  you  by  any  chance  making  me  a  formal  demand 
in  marriage  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  am." 

"  And  at  last  you  have  found  some  one  who  would  meet 
your  requirements  for  the  decorative  wife?  " 

" 1  found  her  last  summer  in  Scotland,"  replied  Weever, 
with  a  little  bow.  "  My  countrymen  have  a  habit  of  find- 
ing quickly  what  they  want.  They  generally  get  it.  I 
could  n't  in  this  particular  instance,  as  you  were  engaged  to 
another  man." 

"  I  am  still  engaged,"  said  Norma. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  heard  the  engagement  was 
broken  off." 

"Not  at  all.  In  fact  only  yesterday  was  it  settled  that 
we  should  be  married  at  Easter." 

"  Having  gone  so  far  on  a  false  assumption,"  remarked 
Weever,  placidly,  "  may  I  go  without  rudeness  a  step 

238 


Abana  and  Pharpar 

farther?  I  do  not  dream  of  asking  jou  to  throw  over 
King  —  if  my  heart  were  not  in  Connecticut,  I  might  — 
but  I  '11  say  this,  if  you  will  allow  me,  Miss  Hardacre  : 
I  don't  believe  you  will  ever  marry  Morland  King.  I 
have  a  presentiment  that  you're  going  to  marry  me  — 
chiefly  because  I  've  planned  it,  and  my  plans  mostly  come 
out  straight.  Anyway  you  are  the  only  woman  in  the 
world  I  should  ever  marry,  and  if  at  any  time  there  should 
be  a  chance  for  me,  a  word,  a  hint,  a  message  through  the 
telephone  to  buy  you  a  pug  dog  —  or  anything  —  would 
bring  me  devotedly  to  your  feet.  Don't  forget  it." 

It  was  impossible  to  be  angry  with  a  bloodless  thing  that 
spoke  like  a  machine.  It  was  also  unnecessary  to  use  the 
conventional  terms  of  regretful  gratitude  in  which  maidens 
in  their  mercy  wrap  refusals. 

"  I  '11  remember  it  with  pleasure,  if  you  like,"  she  said 
with  a  half-smile.  "  But  tell  me  why  you  don't  think  I 
shall  marry  Mr.  King.  I  don't  believe  in  your  presenti- 
ments." 

She  caught  his  eye,  and  they  remained  for  some  seconds 
looking  hard  at  each  other.  She  saw  that  he  had  his  well- 
defined  reasons. 

"  You  can  tell  me  exactly  what  is  in  your  mind,"  she 
said  slowly;  "you  and  I  seem  to  understand  each  other." 

"  If  you  understand  me,  what  is  the  use  of  compromising 
speech,  my  dear  lady  ?  " 

"  You  don't  believe  in  Morland  ?  " 

"  As  a  statesman  I  can't  say  that  I  do,"  replied  Weever, 
with  the  puckering  of  the  faint  lines  round  his  eyes  that 
passed  for  a  smile.  "  That  is  what  astonishes  me  in  your 
English  political  life  —  the  little  one  need  talk  and  the 
little  one  need  do.  In  America  the  politician  is  the  orator. 

239 


Where  Love  Is 

He  must  move  in  an  atmosphere  of  words  half  a  mile 
thick.  Wherever  he  goes  he  must  scream  himself  hoarse. 
But  here  —  " 

Norma  touched  his  arm  with  her  fan. 

"We  were  not  discussing  American  and  English  institu- 
tions," she  interrupted,  "  but  matters  which  interest  me 
a  little  more.  You  don't  believe  in  Morland  as  a  man  ? 
I  want  to  know,  as  they  are  supposed  to  say  in  your 
country.  I  disregard  your  hint,  as  you  may  perceive.  I 
am  also  indelicate  in  pressing  you  to  speak  unfavourably 
of  the  man  I  'm  engaged  t6.  Of  course,  having  made 
me  an  offer,  you  would  regard  it  as  caddish  to  say  any- 
thing against  him.  But  supposing  I  absolve  you  from 
anything  of  the  kind  by  putting  you  on  a  peculiar  plane 
of  friendship  ?  " 

"  Then  I  should  say  I  was  honoured  above  all  mortals," 
replied  Weever,  inscrutably,  "  and  ask  you  to  tell  me  as 
a  friend  what  has  become  of  the  artist  —  the  man  who  got 
shot  —  Padgate." 

The  unexpected  allusion  was  a  shock.  It  brought  back 
a  hateful  scene.  It  awoke  a  multitude  of  feelings.  Its 
relevance  was  a  startling  puzzle.  She  strove  by  hardening 
her  eyes  not  to  betray  herself. 

"  I  've  quite  lost  sight  of  him,"  she  answered  in  a  matter 
of-fact   tone.     "  His  little   adventure    was  n't   a    pleasant 
one." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  had  any  little  adventure  at  all," 
said  Weever,  coolly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Norma  started,  and  the  colour 
came  into  her  face. 

u  That  of  all  the  idiots  let  loose  in  a  cynical,  unimagina- 
tive world,  Padgate  is  the  greatest  I  have  yet  struck.  If  I 

240 


Abana  and  Pharpar 

were  a  hundredth  part  such  an  idiot,  I  should  be  a  better 
and  a  happier  man.  It  's  getting  late.  I  'm  afraid  I  must 
be  moving." 

He  rose,  and  Norma  rose  with  him. 

"  I  wish  you  would  n't  speak  in  riddles.  Can't  you  tell 
me  plainly  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  No,  I  can't,"  he  said  abruptly.  "  I  have  said  quite 
enough.  Good-night.  And  remember,"  he  added,  shak- 
ing hands  with  her,  "  remember  what  I  told  you  about 
myself." 

Only  after  he  had  gone  did  it  flash  upon  her  that  she 
had  not  put  to  him  the  vital  question  —  what  had  Padgate 
to  do  with  his  disbelief  in  Morland  ?  As  is  the  way  with 
people  pondering  over  conundrums,  the  ridiculously  simple 
solution  did  not  occur  to  her.  She  spent  many  days  in 
profitless  speculation.  Weever  prophesied  that  the  marriage 
would  not  take  place.  When  pressed  for  a  reason,  he 
brought  in  the  name  of  Jimmie  Padgate.  Obviously  the 
latter  was  to  stand  between  Morland  and  herself.  But 
in  what  capacity  ?  As  a  lover  ?  Had  Weever  rightly  in- 
terpreted her  insane  act  on  the  day  of  the  garden-party, 
and  assumed  that  she  was  still  in  love  with  the  detested 
creature  ?  The  thought  made  her  grow  hot  and  cold  from 
head  to  foot.  Why  was  he  an  idiot  ?  Because  he  did 
not  take  advantage  of  her  public  confession  ?  or  was  i» 
because  he  stood  in  Weever's  eyes  as  a  wronged  and 
heroic  man  ?  This  in  the  depths  of  her  heart  she  had  been 
yearning  for  months  to  believe.  Connie  Deering  almost 
believed  it.  About  the  facts  once  so  brutally  plain,  so  vul- 
garly devoid  of  mystery,  a  mysterious  cloud  had  gathered 
and  was  thickening  with  time.  Reflection  brought  assur- 
ance that  Theodore  Weever  regarded  Jimmie  as  innocent ; 
16  241 


Where  Love  Is 

and  if  ever  a  man  viewed  human  affairs  in  the  dry,  relentless 
light  of  reason,  it  was  the  inscrutable,  bloodless  American. 

His  offer  of  marriage  she  put  aside  from  her  thoughts. 
Morland  was  the  irrevocably  accepted.  It  was  February. 
Easter  falling  early,  the  wedding  would  take  place  in  a 
little  over  a  month.  In  a  cold,  dispassionate  way,  she 
interested  herself  in  the  usual  preparations.  Peace  reigned 
in  Devonshire  Place.  And  yet  Norma  despised  herself, 
feeling  the  degradation  of  the  woman  who  sells  her 
body. 

During  the  session  she  saw  little  of  Morland.  For  this 
she  thanked  God,  the  duchess,  and  the  electors  of  Cosford. 
The  sense  of  freedom  caused  her  to  repent  of  her  con- 
temptuous attitude  towards  his  political  aspirations.  To 
encourage  and  foster  them  would  be  to  her  very  great 
advantage.  She  adopted  this  policy,  much  to  the  edifica- 
tion of  Morland,  who  felt  the  strengthening  of  a  common 
bond  of  interest.  He  regularly  balloted  for  seats  in  the 
Ladies'  Gallery,  and  condemned  her  to  sit  for  hours  behind 
the  grating  and  listen  to  uninspiring  debates.  He  came  to 
her  with  the  gossip  of  the  lobbies.  He  made  plans  for 
their  future  life  together.  They  would  make  politics  a 
feature  of  their  house.  It  would  be  a  rallying-place  for  the 
new  Tory  wing,  in  which  Morland  after  a  dinner  at  the 
Carlton  Club  when  his  health  was  proposed  in  flattering 
terms,  had  found  himself  enlisted.  Norma  was  to  bring 
back  the  glories  of  the  salon. 

"  When  it  gets  too  thick,"  he  said  once  laughingly, 
ashamed  of  these  wanderings  into  the  ideal,  "  we  can  go  off 
into  the  country  and  shoot  and  have  some  decent  people 
down  and  amuse  ourselves  rationally." 

Yet,  in  spite  of  absorbing  political  toys,  his  complete  sub- 

242 


Abana  and  Pharpar 

jugation  of  Norma,  and  the  smiling  aspect  of  life,  a  sense 
of  utter  wretchedness  weighed  upon  the  soul  of  this  half- 
developed  man.  He  could  not  shake  it  off.  It  haunted 
him  as  he  sat  stolid  and  stupefied  in  his  place  below  the 
gangway.  It  dulled  all  sensation  of  pleasure  when  he 
kissed  the  lips  which  Norma,  resigned  now  to  everything, 
surrendered  to  him  at  his  pleasure.  It  took  the  sparkle  out 
of  his  champagne,  the  joy  out  of  his  life.  Now  that  he 
had  asserted  himself  as  the  victorious  male  who  had  won 
the  female  that  he  coveted,  the  sense  of  wrong  inflicted  on 
him  grew  less  and  the  consciousness  of  his  own  shame 
grew  greater.  In  his  shallow  way  he  had  loved  Jimmie 
dearly.  He  also  had  the  well-bred  Englishman's  conven- 
tional sense  of  honour.  Accusing  conscience  wrote  him 
down  an  unutterable  knave. 

One  day  in  March,  as  he  was  proceeding  citywards  to 
see  his  solicitors  on  some  question  relating  to  marriage  set- 
tlements, his  carriage  was  blocked  for  some  minutes  in 
Oxford  Street.  Looking  idly  out  of  the  near  side  window, 
he  saw  a  familiar  figure  emerge  from  a  doorway  in  a  narrow 
passage,  come  down  to  the  pavement,  and  stand  for  a  few 
moments  in  anxious  thought,  jostled  by  the  passers-by. 
He  looked  thin  and  ill  and  worried.  The  lines  by  the  sides 
of  his  drooping  moustache  had  deepened.  Jimmie,  never 
spruce  in  his  attire,  now  seemed  outrageously  shabby. 
Certain  men  who  dress  well  are  quick,  like  women,  to 
notice  these  things.  Morland's  keen  glance  took  in  the  dis- 
coloured brown  boots  and  the  frayed  hem  of  trousers,  the 
weather  stains  on  the  old  tweed  suit,  the  greasiness  of  the 
red  tie,  the  irregular  mark  of  perspiration  on  the  band  of 
the  old  Homburg  hat.  An  impulse  to  spring  out  of  the 
carriage  and  greet  him  was  struggling  with  sheer  shame, 

243 


Where  Love  Is 

when  Jimmie  suddenly  threw  up  his  head  —  an  old  trick  of 
his  whose  familiarity  brought  a  pang  to  the  man  watching 
him  —  and  crossed  the  road,  disappearing  among  the  traffic 
behind  the  brougham.  Morland  gazed  meditatively  at  the 
little  passage.  Suddenly  he  was  aware  of  the  three  brass 
balls  and  the  name  of  Attenborough.  In  a  moment  he  was 
on  the  pavement  and,  after  a  hurried  word  to  his  coach- 
man, in  pursuit  of  Jimmie.  But  the  traffic  had  swallowed 
Jimmie  up.  It  was  impossible  to  track  him.  Morland 
returned  to  his  brougham  and  drove  on. 

There  was  only  one  explanation  of  what  he  had  seen. 
Jimmie  was  reduced  to  poverty,  to  pawning  his  belongings 
in  order  to  live.  The  scandal  had  killed  the  sale  of  his 
pictures.  No  more  ladies  would  sit  to  him  for  their  por- 
traits. No  more  dealers  would  purchase  works  on  the 
strength  of  his  name.  Jimmie  was  ill,  poor,  down  at  heel, 
and  it  was  all  his,  Morland's,  fault,  his  very  grievous  fault. 
In  a  dim,  futile  way  he  wished  he  were  a  Roman  Catholic, 
so  that  he  could  go  to  a  priest,  confess,  and  receive  absolu- 
tion. The  idea  of  confession  obsessed  him  in  this  chas- 
tened mood.  By  lunch-time  he  had  resolved  to  tell  Norma 
everything  and  abide  by  her  verdict.  At  any  rate,  if  he 
married  her,  he  would  not  do  so  under  false  pretences.  He 
would  feel  happier  with  the  load  of  lies  off  his  mind.  At 
half-past  four  he  left  the  House  of  Commons  to  transact  its 
business  without  him  as  best  it  could,  and  drove  to  Devon- 
shire Place.  As  he  neared  the  door,  his  courage  began  to 
fail.  He  remembered  Norma's  passionate  outburst  against 
lying,  and  shrank  from  the  withering  words  that  she  might 
speak.  The  situation,  however,  had  to  be  faced. 

The  maid  who  opened  the  front  door  informed  him  that 
Norma  was  out,  but  that  Mrs.  Hard^cre  was  at  home.  He 

244 


Abana  and  Pharpar 

was  shown  upstairs  into  the  empty  drawing-room,  and 
while  he  waited  there,  a  solution  of  his  difficulty  occurred  to 
him.  He  caught  at  it  eagerly,  as  he  had  caught  at  com- 
promises and  palliatives  all  his  life.  For  he  was  a  man  of 
half-sins,  half-virtues,  half-loves,  and  half-repentances.  His 
spiritual  attitude  was  that  of  Naaman. 

Mrs.  Hardacre  greeted  him  with  smiles  of  welcome,  and 
regrets  at  Norma's  absence.  If  only  he  had  sent  a  message, 
Norma  would  have  given  up  her  unimportant  engagement. 
She  would  be  greatly  disappointed.  The  House  took  up 
so  much  of  his  time,  and  Norma  prized  the  brief  snatches 
she  could  obtain  of  his  company.  All  of  which,  though 
obviously  insincere,  none  the  less  flattered  Morland's 
vanity. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  Norma  is  away,"  said  he, 
"  for  I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you.  Can  you  give 
me  five  minutes  ?  " 

"  Fifty,  my  dear  Morland,"  replied  Mrs.  Hardacre,  gra- 
ciously. "  Will  you  have  some  tea  ?  " 

He  declined.  It  was  too  serious  a  matter  for  the  accom- 
paniment of  clattering  teaspoons.  Mrs.  Hardacre  sat  in 
an  armchair  with  her  back  to  the  light — the  curtains  had 
not  yet  been  drawn  —  and  Morland  sat  near  her,  looking 
at  the  fire. 

"  I  have  something  on  my  mind,"  he  began.  "  You,  as 
Norma's  mother,  ought  to  know.  It 's  about  my  friend 
Jimmie  Padgate." 

Mrs.  Hardacre  put  out  a  lean  hand. 

"  I  would  rather  not  hear  it.  I  'm  not  uncharitable,  but 
I  wish  none  of  us  had  ever  set  eyes  on  the  man.  He  came 
near  ruining  us  all." 

"  He  seems  to  have  ruined  himself.     He 's  ill,  poor,  in 

245 


Where  Love  Is 

dreadful  low  water.     I  caught  a  sight  of  him  this  morning. 
The  poor  old  chap  was  almost  in  rags." 

"  It 's  very  unpleasant  for  Mr.  Padgate,  but  it  fails  to 
strike  me  as  pathetic.  He  has  only  got  his  deserts." 

"  That 's  where  the  point  lies,"  said  Morland.  "  He 
does  n't  deserve  it.  I  do.  I  am  the  only  person  to  blame 
in  the  whole  infernal  business." 

"  You  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Hardacre,  her  grey  eyes  glittering 
with  sudden  interest.  "  What  had  you  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  everything.  Jimmie  never  set  eyes  on  the  girl 
in  his  life.  He  took  all  the'  blame  to  shield  me.  If  he 
had  n't  done  so,  there  would  have  been  the  devil  to  pay. 
That 's  how  it  stands." 

Mrs.  Hardacre  gave  a  little  gasp. 

"  My  dear  Morland,  you  amaze  me.  You  positively 
shock  me.  Really,  don't  you  think  in  mentioning  the 
matter  to  me  there  is  some  —  indelicacy  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  woman  of  the  world,"  said  Morland,  bluntly, 
"  and  you  know  that  men  don't  lead  the  lives  of  monks 
just  because  they  happen  to  be  unmarried." 

"  Of  course  I  know  it,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre,  composing 
herself  to  sweetness.  "  One  knows  many  things  of  which 
it  is  hardly  necessary  or  desirable  to  talk.  Of  course  I 
think  it  shocking  and  disreputable  of  you.  But  it 's  all 
over  and  done  with.  If  that  was  on  your  mind,  wipe  it 
off  and  let  us  say  no  more  about  it." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  don't  understand,"  said  Morland,  rising 
and  leaning  against  the  mantel-piece.  "  What  is  done  is 
done.  Meanwhile  another  man  is  suffering  for  it,  while  I 
go  about  prospering." 

"  But  surely  that  is  a  matter  between  Mr.  Padgate  and 
yourself.  How  can  it  possibly  concern  us  ?  " 

246 


Abana  and  Pharpar 

As  Morland  had  not  looked  at  the  case  from  that  point 
of  view,  he  silently  inspected  it  with  a  puzzled  brow. 

"  I  can't  help  feeling  a  bit  of  a  brute,  you  know,"  he 
said  at  length.  "  I  meant  at  first  to  let  him  off —  to  make 
a  clean  breast  of  it  —  but  it  was  n't  feasible.  You  know 
how  difficult  these  things  are  when  they  get  put  off.  Then, 
of  course,  I  thought  I  could  make  it  up  to  Jimmie  in  other 
ways." 

"  Why,  so  you  can,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre,  with  the  elabo- 
rate pretence  of  a  little  yawn,  as  if  the  subject  had  ceased 
to  interest  her.  "You  could  afford  it." 

"  Money  is  no  good.  He  won't  touch  a  penny.  I  have 
offered." 

"  Then,  my  dear  Morland,  you  have  done  your  best.  If 
a  man  is  idiot  enough  to  saddle  himself  with  other  people's 
responsibilities  and  refuses  to  be  helped  when  he  breaks 
down  under  them,  you  must  let  him  go  his  own  way. 
Really  I  have  n't  got  any  sympathy  for  him." 

Morland,  having  warmed  himself  sufficiently  and  feeling 
curiously  comforted  by  Mrs.  Hardacre's  wise  words,  sat  down 
again  near  her  and  leant  forward  with  his  arms  on  his  knees. 

"  Do  you  think  Norma  would  take  the  same  view  ?  "  he 
asked.  After  all,  in  spite  of  certain  eccentricities  insepa- 
rable from  an  unbalanced  sex,  she  had  as  much  fundamental 
common-sense  as  her  mother.  The  latter  looked  at  him 
sharply. 

"  What  has  Norma  got  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  I  was  wondering  whether  I  ought  to  tell  her,"  said  he. 

Mrs.  Hardacre  started  bolt  upright  in  her  chair.  This 
time  her  interest  was  genuine.  Nothing  but  her  long  train- 
ing in  a  world  of  petty  strife  kept  the  sudden  fright  out  of 
her  eyes  and  voice. 

247 


Where  Love  Is 

«  Tell  Norma  ?     Whatever  for  ?  " 

u  I  thought  it  would  be  more  decent,"  said  Morland, 
rather  feebly. 

"  It  would  be  sheer  lunacy  !  "  cried  the  lady,  appalled  at 
the  certain  catastrophe  that  such  a  proceeding  would  cause. 
Did  not  the  demented  creature  see  that  the  whole  affair 
was  in  unstable  equilibrium  ?  A  touch,  let  alone  a  shock 
like  this,  would  bring  it  toppling  down,  never  to  be  set  up 
again  by  any  prayers,  remonstrances,  ravings,  curses,  thumb- 
screws, or  racks  the  ingenuity  of  an  outraged  mother  could 
devise. 

"  It  would  be  utter  imbecility,"  she  continued.  "  My 
dear  man,  don't  you  think  one  mad  Don  Quixote  in  a 
romance  is  enough  ?  What  on  earth  would  you,  Norma, 
or  any  one  else  gain  by  telling  her  ?  She  is  as  happy  as 
possible  now,  buying  her  trousseau  and  making  all  the 
wedding  arrangements.  Why  spoil  her  happiness  ?  I 
think  it  exceedingly  inconsiderate  of  you  —  not  to  say 
selfish— I  do  really." 

"  Hardly  that.  It  was  an  idea  of  doing  penance,"  said 
Morland. 

"  If  that  is  all,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre,  relaxing  into  a 
bantering  tone,  as  she  joyfully  noted  the  lack  of  conviction 
in  his  manner,  "  I  '11  make  you  a  hair  shirt,  and  I  '11  promise 
it  shall  be  scratchy  —  untanned  pigskin  with  the  bristles  on, 
if  you  like.  Be  as  uncomfortable,  my  dear  Morland,  as  ever 
you  choose  —  wear  a  frock-coat  with  a  bowler  hat  or  dine 
t$te-a-tete  with  Mr.  Hardacre,  but  do  leave  other  folks  to 
pass  their  lives  in  peace  and  quiet." 

Morland  threw  himself  back  and  laughed,  and  Mrs. 
Hardacre  knew  she  had  won  what  she  paradoxically  called 
a  moral  victory.  They  discussed  the  question  for  a 

248 


Abana  and  Pharpat 

few  moments  longer,  and  then  Morland  rose  to  take  his 
leave. 

"  It 's  awfully  good  of  you  to  look  at  things  in  this  broad- 
minded  way,"  he  said,  with  the  air  of  a  man  whom  an  in- 
dulgent lady  has  pardoned  for  a  small  peccadillo.  "  Awfully 
good  of  you." 

u  There  is  no  other  sane  way  of  looking  at  them,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Hardacre.  "  Won't  you  wait  and  see  Norma  ?  " 

"  I  must  get  back  to  the  House,"  replied  Morland,  con- 
sulting his  watch.  "  There  may  be  a  division  before  the 
dinner-hour." 

He  smoked  a  great  cigar  on  his  way  to  Westminster,  and 
enjoyed  it  thoroughly.  Mrs.  Hardacre  was  quite  right.  He 
had  done  his  best.  If  Jimmie  was  too  high  and  mighty  to 
accept  the  only  compensation  possible,  he  was  not  to  blame. 
The  matter  was  over  and  done  with.  It  would  be  idiotic 
to  tell  Norma. 

Meanwhile,  having  made  confession  and  received  absolu- 
tion, he  felt  spiritually  refreshed. 


Chapter  XX 

ALINE   PREPARES   FOR   BATTLE 

THE  look  of  illness  that  Morland  had  noticed  upon 
Jimmie's  face  was  due  to  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  ill.  Italian, townlets  nestling  on  hillsides  are 
picturesque,  but  they  are  not  always  healthy.  A  touch  of 
fever  had  laid  him  on  his  back  for  a  week,  and  caused  the 
local  doctor  to  order  him  to  England.  He  had  arrived  in  a 
limp  condition,  much  to  the  anxiety  of  Aline,  who  had  ex- 
pected to  see  the  roses  return  to  his  cheek  as  soon  as  their 
slender  baggage  had  passed  the  custom-house.  He  was 
shabbily  dressed  because  he  had  fallen  on  evil  times,  and 
had  no  money  to  waste  on  personal  vanities.  The  four 
guineas  which  Aline  had  put  aside  out  of  their  limited  re- 
sources to  buy  him  a  new  suit  he  had  meanly  abstracted 
from  the  housekeeping  drawer,  and  had  devoted,  with  the 
surreptitious  help  of  the  servant,  to  purchasing  necessary 
articles  of  attire  for  Aline.  He  was  looking  worried  be- 
cause he  had  forgotten  in  which  of  the  cheap  Oxford  Street 
restaurants  he  had  promised  to  meet  that  young  lady. 
When  he  remembered,  the  cloud  passed  from  his  face 
and  he  darted  across  the  road  behind  Morland's  brougham. 
He  found  Aline  seated  primly  at  a  little  marble  table  on 
which  were  a  glass  of  milk  and  a  lump  of  amorphous  pastry 
for  herself,  and  a  plate  of  cold  beef  and  a  small  bottle  of 
Bass  for  Jimmie.  J>  was  too  early  for  the  regular  crowd 


Aline  Prepares  for  Battle 

of  lunchers  —  only  half-past  twelve  —  and  the  slim,  erect 
little  figure  looked  oddly  alone  in  the  almost  empty 
restaurant. 

Jimmie  nodded  in  a  general,  kindly  way  at  the  idle  wait- 
resses about  the  buffet,  and  marched  down  the  room  with 
a  quick  step,  his  eyes  beaming.  He  sat  down  with  some 
clatter  opposite  Aline,  and  took  two  cheques,  a  bank-note 
and  a  handful  of  gold  and  silver  from  his  pocket,  and  dumped 
them  noisily  on  the  table. 

"  There,  my  child.  Seven  pounds  ten.  Twenty-five 
guineas.  Five  pounds.  And  eight  pounds  three-and-six- 
pence.  Exit  wolf  at  the  door,  howling,  with  his  tail 
between  his  legs." 

Aline  looked  at  the  wealth  with  knitted  brow. 

"  Can  I  take  this  ?  "  she  asked,  lifting  up  the  five-pound 
note. 

Jimmie  pushed  the  pile  towards  her.  "  Take  it  all,  my 
dear.  What  on  earth  should  I  do  with  it  ?  Besides,  it 's 
all  your  doing." 

"  Because  I  made  you  go  and  dun  those  horrid  dealers  ? 
And  even  now  Hyam  has  only  given  you  half.  It  was 
fifty  guineas — Oh,  Jimmie  !  Do  you  mean  to  say  you 
forgot  ?  Now,  what  did  you  tell  him  ?  Did  you  produce 
the  agreement  ?  " 

Jimmie  looked  at  her  ruefully. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  forgot  the  wretched  agreement.  I  went 
in  and  twirled  my  moustache  fiercely,  and  said  l  Mr.  Hyam, 
I  want  my  money.'" 

Aline  laughed.  "  And  you  took  him  by  the  throat.  I 
know.  Oh,  you  foolish  person  !  " 

u  Well,  he  asked  me  if  twenty-five  would  be  enough  — 
and  it's  a  lot  of  money,  you  know,  dear  —  and  I  thought  if 

251 


Where  Love  Is 

I  did  n't  say  'yes,'  he  would  n't  give  me  anything.     In  busi- 
ness affairs  one  has  to  be  diplomatic." 

"  I  '11  have  to  take  Hyam  in  hand  myself,"  said  Aline, 
decisively.  "Well,  he'll  have  to  pay  up  some  day.  Then 
there  's  Blathwayt  dff  Co.,  —  and  Tilney  —  that 's  quite 
right  —  but  where  did  you  get  all  that  gold  fr  m,  Jimmie?  " 

"  Oh,  that  was  somebody  else,"  he  said  vaguely.  Then 
turning  to  the  waitress,  who  had  sauntered  up  to  open  the 
bottle  of  Bass,  he  pointed  at  Aline's  lunch. 

"  Do  you  mind  taking  away  that  eccentric  pie-thing 
and  bringing  the  most  nutritious  dish  you  have  in  the 
establishment  ?  " 

"  But,  Jimmie,  this  is  a  Bath  bun.  It 's  delicious,"  pro- 
tested Aline. 

"  My  dear  child,  growing  girls  cannot  be  fed  like  bears 
on  buns.  Ah,  here,"  he  said  to  the  waitress  who  showed 
him  the  little  wooden-handled  frame  containing  the  tariff, 
"  bring  this  young  lady  some  galantine  of  chicken." 

Aline,  who  in  her  secret  heart  loved  the  "  eccentric 
pie-thing  "  beyond  all  other  dainties,  and  trembled  at  the 
stupendous  charge,  possibly  ninepence  or  a  shilling,  that 
would  be  made  for  the  galantine,  yielded,  after  the  manner 
of  women,  because  she  knew  it  would  please  Jimmie.  But 
accustomed  to  his  diplomatic  methods,  she  felt  that  a 
red  herring  —  or  a  galantine  —  had  been  drawn  across 
the  track. 

"Who  was  the  somebody  else  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  nodded  and  drank  a  draught  of  beer  and  wiped  the 
froth  from  his  moustache.  Something  unusual  in  his  per- 
sonal appearance  suddenly  caught  her  attention.  His 
watch-chain  was  dangling  loose  from  the  buttonhole  of 
his  waistcoat. 

252 


Aline  Prepares  for  Battle 

"  Your  watch  !  "  she  gasped. 

Dissimulation  being  vain,  Jimmie  confessed. 

"You  told  me  this  morning,  my  dear,  that  if  we  didn't 
get  fifty  pounds  to-day  we  were  ruined.  You  spoke  alarm- 
ingly of  the  workhouse.  My  debt  collecting  amounted  to 
thirty-eight  pounds  fifteen.  I  tried  hard  to  work  the 
obdurate  bosom  up  to  eleven  pounds  five,  but  he  would 
only  give  me  eight." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  sold  your  beautiful 
gold  watch  for  eight  pounds  ? "  cried  the  girl,  turning  as 
pale  as  the  milk  in  front  of  her. 

It  had  been  a  present  from  a  wealthy  stockbroker  who 
had  been  delighted  with  his  portrait  painted  by  Jimmie  a 
couple  of  years  ago,  and  it  was  thick  and  heavy  and  the 
pride  of  Aline's  existence.  It  invested  Jimmie  with  an  air 
of  solidity,  worldly  substantiality;  and  it  was  the  only  time- 
keeper they  had  ever  had  in  the  house  which  properly 
executed  its  functions.  Now  he  had  sold  it !  Was  there 
ever  so  exasperating  a  man  ?  He  was  worse  than  Moses 
with  his  green  spectacles.  But  Jimmie  reassured  her.  He 
had  only  pawned  the  watch  at  Attenborough's  over  the 
way. 

"  Then  give  me  the  ticket,  do,  or  you  '11  lose  it, 
Jimmie." 

He  meekly  obeyed.  Aline  began  her  galantine  with  a 
sigh  of  relief,  and  condescended  to  laugh  at  Jimmie's 
account  of  his  exploits.  But  when  the  meal  was  ended, 
she  insisted  on  redeeming  the  precious  watch,  and  much 
happier  in  knowing  it  safe  in  his  pocket,  she  carried  him 
off  to  a  ready-made  tailor's,  where  she  ordered  him  a  beau- 
tiful thin  overcoat  for  thirty  shillings,  a  neat  blue  serge 
suit  for  three  pounds  ten,  handing  over  in  payment  the 

253 


Where  Love  Is 

five-pound  note  she  had  abstracted  from  his  gleanings,  and 
a  new  hat,  for  which  she  paid  from  a  mysterious  private 
store  of  her  own.  These  matters  having  been  arranged  to 
her  satisfaction,  she  made  up  for  her  hectoring  ways  by 
nestling  against  him  on  top  of  the  homeward-bound  omni- 
bus and  telling  him  what  a  delightful,  lovely  morning  they 
had  spent. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  Jimmie,  aided  by  Aline's  stout 
little  heart,  was  battling  more  than  usual  against  adversity. 
Aline  had  many  schemes.  Why  should  she  not  obtain 
some  lucrative  employment  ?  Jimmie  made  a  wry  face  at 
the  phrase  and  protested  vehemently  against  the  suggestion. 
A  hulking  varlet  like  him  to  let  her  wear  her  fingers  to  the 
bone  by  addressing  envelopes  at  twopence  a  million  ?  He 
would  sooner  return  to  the  five-shillings-a-dozen  oil  paint- 
ings ;  he  would  go  round  the  streets  at  dawn  and  play 
"  ghost  "  to  pavement  artists ;  he  would  take  in  washing  ! 
The  idea  of  the  street-pictures  caught  his  fancy.  He  ex- 
patiated upon  its  advantages.  Five  pitches,  say  at  two 
shillings  a  pitch,  that  would  be  ten  shillings  a  day  —  three 
pounds  a  week.  A  most  business-like  plan,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  education  in  art  it  would  be  to  the  public  !  He  had 
his  own  fantastical  way  of  dealing  with  the  petty  cares  of 
life.  As  for  Aline  working,  he  would  not  hear  of  it. 
Though  they  lived  now  from  hand  to  mouth,  they  were 
always  fed.  He  had  faith  in  the  ravens. 

But  all  the  fantasy  and  the  faith  could  not  subdue 
Aline's  passionate  rebellion  against  Jimmie's  ostracism. 
She  was  very  young,  very  feminine ;  she  had  not  his  wide 
outlook,  his  generous  sympathies,  his  disdain  of  trivial, 
ignoble  things,  his  independence  of  soul.  The  world 
was  arrayed  against  Jimmie.  Society  was  persecuting  him 

254 


Aline  Prepares  for  Battle 

with  monstrous  injustice.  She  hated  his  oppressors,  longed 
fiercely  for  an  opportunity  of  vindicating  his  honour.  Jf. 
was  sometimes  more  than  she  could  bear  —  to  think  of  his 
straitened  means,  the  absence  of  sitters,  the  lowered  prices 
he  obtained,  the  hours  of  unremitting  toil  he  spent  at  his 
easel  and  drawing-table.  During  their  travels  she  had  not 
realised  what  the  scandal  would  mean  to  him  profession- 
ally. Now  her  heart  rose  in  hot  revolt  and  thirsted  for 
battle  in  Jimmie's  cause. 

Her  heart  had  never  been  hotter  than  one  morning 
when,  the  gem  of  his  finished  Italian  studies  having  been 
rejected  by  the  committee  of  a  minor  exhibition,  she  went 
down  to  the  studio  to  give  vent  to  her  indignation.  At 
breakfast  Jimmie  had  laughed  and  kissed  her  and  told  her 
not  to  drop  tears  into  his  coffee.  He  would  send  the 
picture  to  the  Academy,  where  it  would  be  hung  on  the 
line  and  make  him  famous.  He  refused  to  be  down- 
hearted and  talked  buoyantly  of  other  things.  But  Aline 
felt  that  it  was  only  for  her  sake  that  he  hid  his  bitter  dis- 
appointment, and  an  hour  later  she  could  bear  the  strain  of 
silence  no  longer. 

The  door  of  the  studio  was  open.  The  girl's  footstep 
was  soft,  and,  not  hearing  it,  he  did  not  turn  as  she  entered. 
For  a  few  seconds  she  stood  watching  him ;  feeling  shy, 
embarrassed,  an  intruder  upon  unexpected  sacred  things. 
Jimmie's  mind  was  far  away  from  minor  exhibitions.  He 
was  sitting  on  his  painting-stool,  chin  in  hand,  looking  at  a 
picture  on  the  easel.  On  his  face  was  unutterable  pain,  in 
his  eyes  an  agony  of  longing.  Aline  caught  her  breath, 
frightened  at  the  revelation.  The  eyes  of  the  painted 
Norma  smiled  steadfastly  into  his.  The  horrible  irony  of 
k  smote  the  girl.  Another  catch  at  the  breath  became  a 

25S 


Where  Love  Is 

choking  sob.  Jimmie  started,  and  as  if  a  magic  hand  had 
passed  across  his  features,  the  pain  vanished,  and  Aline  saw 
,  *Jie  homely  face  again  with  its  look  of  wistful  kindness. 
Overwrought,  she  broke  into  a  passion  of  weeping. 
Jimmie  put  his  arms  about  her  and  soothed  her.  What 
did  the  rejection  of  a  picture  matter  ?  It  was  part  of  the 
game  of  painting.  She  must  be  his  own  brave  little  girl 
and  smile  at  the  rubs  of  fortune.  But  Aline  shook  the 
head  buried  on  his  shoulder,  and  stretched  out  a  hand 
blindly  towards  the  portrait. 
v  "  It 's  that.  I  can't  bear  it." 

An  impossible  thought  shot  through  him.  He  drew 
away  from  her  and  caught  her  wrists  somewhat  roughly, 
and  tried  to  look  at  her ;  but  she  bowed  her  head. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  my  child  ?  "  he  asked  curtly,  with 
bent  brows. 

Women  are  lightning-witted  in  their  interpretation  of 
such  questions.  The  blood  flooded  her  face,  and  her  tears 
dried  suddenly  and  she  met  his  glance  straight. 

"  Do  you  think  I  'm  jealous  ?  Do  you  suppose  I 
have  n't  known  ?  I  can't  bear  you  to  suffer.  I  can't  bear 
her  not  to  believe  in  you.  I  can't  bear  her  not  to  love 
you." 

Jimmie  let  go  her  wrists  and  stood  before  her  full  of 
grateful  tenderness,  quite  at  a  loss  for  words.  He  looked 
whimsically  at  the  flushed,  defiant  little  face ;  he  shook  her 
by  the  shoulder  and  turned  away. 

u  My  valiant  tin  soldier,"  he  said. 

It  was  an  old  name  for  her,  dating  from  nursery  days, 
when  they  thought  and  talked  according  to  the  gospel  of 
Hans  Christian  Andersen. 

No   more    passed    between    them.     But  thenceforward 

256 


Aline  Prepares  for  Battle 

Jiir.mie  put  the  finishing  touches  to  the  portrait  openly, 
Instead  of  painting  at  it  when  he  knew  he  should  be  undis- 
turbed. The  wedding  was  drawing  near.  The  date  had 
been  announced  in  the  papers,  and  Jimmie  had  put  a  cross 
against  it  in  his  diary.  If  only  Norma  would  accept  the 
portrait  as  a  wedding-present,  he  would  feel  happier.  But 
how  to  approach  her  he  did  not  know.  In  her  pure  eyes, 
he  was  well  aware,  he  must  appear  the  basest  of  men,  and 
things  proceeding  from  him  would  bear  a  taint  of  the  un- 
speakable. Yet  he  hungered  for  her  acceptance.  It  was 
the  most  perfect  picture  he  had  painted  or  could  ever  paint. 
The  divinest  part  of  him  had  gone  to  the  making  of  it.  It 
held  in  its  passionate  simplicity  the  man's  soul,  as  the 
Monna  Lisa  in  its  mysterious  complexity  holds  Leonardo's. 
Of  material  symbols  of  things  spiritual  he  could  not  give 
her  more.  But  how  to  give  ? 

Connie  Deering  settled  the  question  by  coming  to  the 
studio  one  morning,  a  bewildering  vision  of  millinery  and 
smiles  and  kindness. 

11  You  have  persistently  refused,  you  wicked  bear,  to 
come  and  see  me  since  my  return  to  London,  so  I  have  no 
choice  but  to  walk  into  your  den.  If  it  had  n't  been  for 
Aline,  beyond  an  occasional  'Dear  Connie,  I  am  very  well. 
The  weather  is  unusually  warm  for  the  time  of  year. 
Yours  sincerely,  J.  P.',  I  should  n't  know  whether  you  were 
alive  or  dead.  I  hope  you're  ashamed  of  yourself." 

This  was  the  little  lady's  exordium,  to  which  she  tact- 
fully gave  Jimmie  no  time  to  reply.  She  stayed  for  an 
hour.  The  disastrous  topic  was  avoided.  But  Jimmie 
felt  that  she  forbore  to  judge  him  for  his  supposed  offence, 
and  learned  to  his  great  happiness  that  Norma  had  asked 
after  his  welfare,  and  would  without  doubt  deign  in  her 
17  257 


Where  Love  Is 

divine  graciousness  to  accept  the  portrait.  She  looked 
thoughtfully  at  the  picture  for  some  time,  and  then  laid  a 
light  touch  on  his  arm. 

"  How  you  must  love  her,  Jimmie  !  "  she  said  in  a  low 
voice.  "  I  have  n't  forgotten." 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  he  answered  gravely.  "  I  oughtn't 
to  have  said  what  I  did.  I  don't  remember  what  I  did  say. 
I  lost  my  head  and  raved.  Every  man  has  his  hour  of  mad- 
ness, and  that  was  mine  —  all  through  your  witchery.  And 
yet  somehow  it  seemed  as  if  I  were  pouring  it  all  out  to 
her." 

Connie  Deering  perceptibly  winced.  Plucking  up 
courage,  she  began  : 

"  I  wish  a  man  would  —  " 

u  My  dear  Connie,"  Jimmie  interrupted  kindly,  "  there 
are  hundreds  of  men  in  London  who  are  sighing  themselves 
hoarse  for  you.  But  you  are  such  a  hard-hearted  butter- 
fly." 

Her  lips  twitched.  "  Not  so  hard-hearted  as  you  think, 
my  good  Jimmie,"  she  retorted. 

A  moment  later  she  was  all  inconsequence  and  jest. 
On  parting  he  took  both  her  white-gloved  little  hands. 

"  You  can't  realise  the  joy  it  has  been  to  me  to  see  you, 
Connie,"  he  said.  "  It  has  been  like  a  ray  of  sunlight 
through  prison  bars." 

After  a  private  talk  with  Aline  she  drove  straight  to 
Devonshire  Place,  and  on  the  way  dabbed  her  eyes  with 
the  inconsiderable  bit  of  chiffon  called  a  handkerchief 
which  she  carried  in  her  gold  chain  purse.  She  saw  Norma 
alone  for  a  moment  before  lunch,  and  told  her  of  her 
visit. 

"  I  don't  care  what  he  has  done,"  she  declared  des- 

258 


Aline  Prepares  for  Battle 

perately.  "I  am  not  going  to  let  it  make  a  difference  any 
longer.  He  's  the  same  dear  creature  I  have  known  all 
my  life,  and  I  don't  believe  he  has  done  anything  at  all. 
If  there 's  a  sinner  in  that  horrible  business,  it  is  n't 
Jimmie  !  " 

Norma  looked  out  of  the  window  at  the  bleak  March  day. 

"That  is  what  Theodore  Weever  said,"  she  answered 
tonelessly. 

"Then  why  don't  you  give  Jimmie  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt  ?  " 

"  It  is  better  that  I  should  n't." 

«  Why,  dear  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  sweet  little  soul,  Connie,"  said  Norma,  her 
eyes  still  fixed  on  the  grey  sky.  "  But  you  may  do  more 
harm  than  good.  I  am  better  as  I  am.  I  have  benumbed 
myself  into  a  decent  state  of  insensibility  and  I  don't  want 
to  feel  anything  ever  again  as  long  as  I  live." 

The  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Hardacre  appeared  on  the 
threshold.  Connie  bent  forward  and  whispered  quickly 
into  Norma's  ear : 

"  One  would  think  you  were  afraid  to  believe  in 
Jimmie." 

She  swung  round,  flushed,  femininely  excited  at  having 
seized  the  unfair  moment  for  dealing  a  stab. 

"  I  hope  I  have  made  her  feel,"  she  thought,  as  she 
fluttered  forward  to  greet  Mrs.  Hardacre. 

She  succeeded  perhaps  beyond  her  hope.  A  sharp  glance 
showed  her  Norma  still  staring  out  of  window,  but  staring 
now  with  an  odd  look  of  fear  and  pain.  Her  kind  heart 
repented. 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  hurt  you,"  she  said  on  their  way  down- 
stairs to  lunch. 

259 


Where  Love  Is 

"  What  does  it  matter  ? "  Norma  answered  by  way  of 
pardon. 

But  the  shrewd  thrust  mattered  exceedingly.  After 
Connie  had  gone,  the  wound  ached,  and  Norma  found  that 
her  boast  of  having  benumbed  herself  was  a  vain  word. 
In  the  night  she  lay  awake,  frightened  at  the  reaction  that 
was  taking  place.  Theodore  Weever  had  shaken  her  more 
than  she  had  realised.  Connie  Deering  proclaimed  the 
same  faith.  She  felt  that  she  too  would  have  to  accept 
it  —  against  argument,  against  reason,  against  fact.  She 
would  have  to  accept  it  wholly,  implicitly  ;  and  she  dreaded 
the  act  of  faith.  Her  marriage  with  Morland  was  fixed 
for  that  day  week,  and  she  was  agonisingly  aware  that  she 
loved  another  man  with  all  her  heart. 

The  next  day  she  received  a  hurried  note  from  Connie 
Deering  : 


"  Do  come  in  for  half  an  hour  for  tea  on  Sunday.  I  have  a 
beautiful  wedding-present  to  show  you  which  I  hope  you  '11  like, 
as  great  pains  have  been  spent  over  it.  And  I  want  to  have  a 
last  little  chat  with  you." 

She  promised  unreflectingly,  seeing  no  snare.  But  as 
she  walked  to  Bryanston  Square  on  Sunday  afternoon,  more 
of  a  presentiment,  a  foreboding  of  evil,  than  a  suspicion 
fixed  itself  upon  her  mind,  and  she  wished  she  had  not 
agreed  to  come.  She  was  shown  into  the  drawing-room, 
and  there,  beside  a  gilt-framed  picture  over  which  a  cloth 
was  thrown,  with  her  great  brown  eyes  meeting  her  defi- 
antly, stood  Aline. 


260 


Chapter    XXI 
THE   MOTH    MEETS   THE  STAR 

THUS  had  Aline,  her  heart  hot  for  battle  in 
Jimmie's  cause,  contrived  with  Connie  Deering 
as  subsidiary  conspirator.  She  had  lain  awake 
most  of  the  night,  thinking  of  the  approaching  interview, 
composing  speeches,  elaborating  arguments,  defining  her 
attitude.  Her  plan  of  campaign  was  based  on  the  assump- 
tion of  immediate  hostilities.  She  had  pictured  a  scornful 
lady  moved  to  sudden  anger  at  seeing  herself  trapped,  and 
haughtily  refusing  to  discuss  overtures  of  peace.  It  was  to 
be  war  from  the  first,  until  she  had  brought  her  adversary 
low;  and  when  the  door-handle  rattled  and  the  door 
opened  to  admit  Norma,  every  nerve  in  her  young  body 
grew  tense,  and  her  heart  beat  like  the  clapper  of  a  bell. 

Norma  entered,  looked  for  a  moment  in  smiling  surprise 
at  Aline,  came  quickly  forward,  and  moved  by  a  sudden 
impulse,  a  yearning  for  love,  sweetness,  freshness,  peace  — 
she  knew  not  what  —  she  put  her  arms  round  the  girl  and 
kissed  her. 

"  My  dear  Aline,  how  sweet  it  is  to  see  you  again  ! " 

The  poor  little  girl  stood  helpless.  The  bottom  was 
knocked  out  of  her  half-childish  plan  of  campaign.  There 
was  no  scornful  lady,  no  haughty  words,  no  hostilities. 
She  fell  to  crying.  What  else  could  she  do  ? 

"  There,  there  !  Don't  cry,  dear,"  said  Norma  sooth- 
ingly, almost  as  helpless.  Seating  herself  on  a  low  chair 

261 


Where  Love  Is 

*nd  drawing  Aline  to  her  side,  she  looked  up  at  the  piteous 
face. 

"  Why  should  you  cry,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  know  you  would  be  so  good  to  me,"  answered 
Aline,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"  Why  should  n't  I  be  good  to  you  ?  What  reason 
could  I  have  for  not  being  glad  to  see  you  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  touch  of  bitterness. 
"  Things  are  so  different  now." 

Norma  sighed  for  answer  and  thought  of  her  premo- 
nition. She  was  aware  that  Connie  had  deliberately  planned 
this  interview,  but  could  find  no  resentment  in  her  heart. 
The  reproach  implied  in  Aline's  words  she  accepted  humbly. 
She  was  at  once  too  spiritless  for  anger,  and  too  much  ex- 
cited by  the  girl's  presence  for  regret  at  having  come.  Her 
eye  fell  upon  the  picture  leaning  against  the  chair-back,  and 
a  conjecture  swiftly  passed  through  her  mind. 

"  Mrs.  Deering  asked  me  to  come  and  look  at  a  wed- 
ding-present," she  said  with  a  smile. 

u  Did  she  tell  you  from  whom  ?  "  asked  Aline,  thrust- 
ing her  handkerchief  into  her  pocket.  She  had  found  her 
nerve  again. 

"  No." 

"  It 's  from  Jimmie." 

"  Is  it  that  over  there  ?  " 

Aline  caught  and  misinterpreted  an  unsteadiness  of  voice. 
She  threw  herself  on  her  knees  by  Norma's  side. 

"You  won't  refuse  it,  Miss  Hardacre.  Oh,  say  you 
won't  refuse  it.  Jimmie  began  it  ever  so  long  ago.  He 
put  everything  into  it.  It  would  break  his  heart  if  you 
refused  it  —  the  heart  of  the  best  and  beautifullest  and  ten- 
deiest  and  most  wonderful  man  God  ever  made." 

262 


The  Moth  Meets  the  Star 

Norma  touched  with  her  gloved  fingers  a  wisp  of  hair 
straying  over  the  girl's  forehead. 

"  How  do  you  know  he  is  all  that  ?  " 

w  How  do  I  know  ?  How  do  I  know  the  sun  shines 
and  the  rain  falls  ?  It 's  just  so." 

"  You  have  faith,  my  child,"  said  Norma,  oddly. 

"  It  is  n't  faith.  It 's  knowledge.  You  all  believe 
Jimmie  has  done  something  horrible.  He  has  n't.  I  know 
he  has  n't.  He  could  n't.  He  could  n't  harm  a  living 
creature  by  word  or  deed.  I  know  he  never  did  it.  If  I 
had  thought  so  for  one  moment,  I  should  have  loathed 
myself  so  that  I  would  have  gone  out  and  killed  myself. 
I  know  very  little  about  it.  I  did  n't  read  the  newspapers 
—  it 's  hideous  —  it 's  horrible  • —  Jimmie  would  as  soon 
think  of  torturing  a  child.  It 's  not  in  his  nature.  He 
is  all  love  and  sweetness  and  chivalry.  If  you  say  he  has 
taken  the  blame  on  himself  for  some  great  generous  pur- 
pose —  yes.  That 's  Jimmie.  That 's  Jimmie  all  over. 
It 's  cruel  —  it 's  monstrous  for  any  one  who  knows  him  to 
think  otherwise." 

She  had  risen  from  her  knees  half-way  through  her  pas- 
sionate speech,  and  moved  about  in  front  of  Norma,  wring- 
ing her  hands.  She  ended  in  a  sob  and  turned  away. 
Norma  lay  back  in  her  chair,  pale  and  agitated.  The 
cynical  worldling  with  his  piercing  vision  into  men  and  the 
pure,  ignorant  child  had  arrived  at  the  same  conclusion,  not 
after  months  of  thought,  but  instantly,  intuitively.  She 
could  make  the  girl  no  answer.  Aline  began  again. 

"  He  could  n't.  You  know  he  could  n't.  It 's  something 
glorious  and  beautiful  he  has  done  and  not  anything 
shameful." 

She  went  on,  with  little  pauses,  hurling  her  short,  breath- 

263 


Where  Love  Is 

less  sentences  across  the  space  that  separated  her  from 
Norma,  forgetful  of  everything  save  the  wrong  done  to 
Jimmie.  At  last  Norma  rose  and  went  to  her. 

"Hush,  dear!"  she  said.  "There  are  some  things  I 
must  n't  talk  about.  I  dare  n't.  You  are  too  young  to 
understand.  Mr.  Padgate  has  sent  me  a  wedding-present. 
Tell  him  how  gladly  I  accept  it  and  how  I  shall  value  it. 
Let  me  see  the  picture." 

Aline,  her  slight  bosom  still  heaving  with  the  after-storm 
of  emotion,  said  nothing,  but  drew  the  cloth  from  the  can- 
vas. Norma  started  back  in -surprise.  She  had  not  antici- 
pated seeing  her  own  portrait. 

"  Oh,  but  it  is  beautiful !  "  she  cried  invohintarily. 

"Yes  —  more  than  beautiful,"  said  Aline,  and  mechani- 
cally she  moved  the  chair  into  the  full  light  of  the  window. 

Norma  looked  at  the  picture  for  a  long  time,  stepped 
back  and  looked  at  herself  in  the  mirror  of  the  overmantel, 
and  returned  to  the  picture.  And  as  she  looked  the  soul 
behind  the  picture  spoke  to  her.  The  message  delivered, 
she  glanced  at  Aline. 

"  It  is  not  I,  that  woman.  I  wish  to  God  it  were." 
She  put  her  hands  up  to  her  face,  and  took  a  step  or  two 
across  the  room,  and  repeated  a  little  wildly,  "  I  wish  to 
God  it  were !  " 

"  It  is  very,  very  like  you,"  said  Aline  softly,  recovering 
her  girl's  worship  of  the  other's  stately  beauty. 

Norma  caught  her  by  the  arm  and  pointed  at  the  portrait. 

"  Can't  you  see  the  difference  ?  " 

But  the  soul  behind  the  picture  had  not  spoken  to  Aline. 
There  was  love  hovering  around  the  pictured  woman's 
lips ;  happy  tenderness  and  trust  and  promise  mingled  in 
her  eyes ;  in  so  far  as  the  shadow  of  a  flower-like  woman's 

264 


The  Moth  Meets  the  Star 

passion  could  strain  her  features,  so  were  her  features 
strained.  Yet  she  looked  out  of  the  canvas  a  proud, 
queenly  woman,  capable  of  heroisms  and  lofty  sacrifice. 
She  was  one  who  loved  deeply  and  demanded  love  in 
return.  She  was  warm  of  the  flesh,  infinitely  pure  of  the 
spirit.  The  face  was  the  face  of  Norma,  but  the  soul  was 
that  of  the  dream-woman  who  had  come  and  sat  in  the 
sitter's  chair  and  communed  with  Jimmie  as  he  painted  her. 
And  Norma  heard  her  voice.  It  was  an  indictment  of  her 
life,  a  judgment  and  a  sentence. 

"  I  am  glad  you  can't,  dear,"  she  said  to  Aline,  regain- 
ing her  balance.  "  Tell  him  I  shall  prize  it  above  all  my 
wedding-gifts." 

They  talked  quietly  for  a  while  about  Jimmie's  affairs, 
the  pilgrimage  through  southern  France  and  northern  Italy, 
his  illness,  his  work.  His  poverty  Aline  was  too  proud  to 
mention. 

"  And  you,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  Norma,  kindly. 

"  I  ? " 

"  What  about  yourself?  You  are  not  looking  as  happy 
as  you  were.  My  dear  child,"  she  said,  bending  forward 
earnestly,  "  do  you  know  that  no  one  has  ever  come  to  me 
with  their  troubles  in  all  my  life — not  once.  I  'm  begin- 
ning to  feel  I  should  be  happier  if  some  one  did.  You 
have  had  yours  —  I  have  heard  just  a  little.  You  see  we 
all  have  them  and  we  might  help  each  other." 

"  You  have  no  troubles,  Miss  Hardacre,"  said  Aline? 
touched.  "You  are  going  to  be  married  in  a  week's  time." 

«  And  you  ?  " 

"  Never,"  said  Aline.     "  Never." 

Suddenly  she  poured  her  disastrous  little  love-story  into 
Norma's  ears.  It  was  a  wonderful  new  comfort  to  the 

265 


Where  Love  Is 

child,  this  tender  magic  of  the  womanly  sympathy.  Oh ! 
she  loved  him,  of  course  she  loved  him,  and  he  loved  her ; 
that  was  the  piteous  part  of  it.  If  Miss  Hardacre  only 
knew  what  it  was  to  have  the  heart-ache  !  It  was  dread- 
ful. And  there  was  no  hope. 

"  And  is  that  all  ?  "  asked  Norma,  when  she  had  lowered 
the  curtain  on  her  tragedy.  "  You  are  eating  out  your 
heart  for  him  and  won't  see  him  just  because  he  won't  be- 
lieve in  Jimmie  ?  Listen.  I  feel  sure  that  he  will  soon 
believe  in  Jimmie.  He  must.  And  then  you  '11  be 
entirely  happy." 

When  the  girl's  grateful  arms  suddenly  flung  themselves 
about  her,  Norma  was  further  on  the  road  to  happiness 
than  she  had  ever  travelled  before.  She  yielded  herself  to 
the  moment's  exquisite  charm.  Behind  her  whirled  a 
tumult  of  longing,  shame,  struggling  faith,  nameless  sus- 
picion. Before  her  loomed  a  shivering  dread.  The  actual 
moment  was  an  isle  of  enchanted  peace. 

The  clock  on  a  table  at  the  far  end  of  the  room  chiming 
six  brought  her  back  to  the  workaday  world.  She  must 
go  home.  Morland  was  coming  to  dinner ;  also  one  or 
two  Cosford  people,  who  had  already  arrived  in  town  in 
view  of  the  wedding.  She  would  have  to  dress  with  some 
elaborateness.  Her  heart  grew  heavy  and  cold  at  the  pros- 
pect of  the  dreary  party.  She  rose,  looked  again  at  the 
picture  in  the  fading  light.  Moved  by  the  irresistible,  she 
turned  to  Aline. 

"I  should  like  to  see  him  —  to  thank  him — before  — 
before  Wednesday.  Do  you  think  he  would  come  ?  " 

Aline  blushed  guiltily.  "Jimmie  is  in  the  house  now," 
she  said. 

u  Downstairs  ?  " 

266 


The  Moth  Meets  the  Star 

«  Yes." 

For  a  moment  irresolute,  she  looked  vacantly  into  the 
girl's  pleading  eyes.  An  odd  darkness  encompassed  her 
and  she  saw  nothing.  The  announcement  was  a  shock 
of  crisis.  Dimly  she  knew  that  she  trod  the  brink  of 
folly  and  peril.  But  she  had  been  caught  unawares,  and 
she  longed  stupidly,  achingly,  for  the  sight  of  his  face. 
The  words  of  Aline,  eager  in  defence  of  her  beloved, 
seemed  far  away. 

"  Of  course  he  does  n't  know  you  are  here.  He  was  to 
call  for  me  at  a  quarter  to  six,  and  I  heard  the  front  door 
open  a  little  while  ago.  I  brought  the  picture  in  a  cab, 
and  he  is  under  the  impression  that  Mrs.  Deering  will  ask 
you  to  —  will  do  what  I  have  done.  Jimmie  is  perfectly 
innocent,  Miss  Hardacre.  He  had  not  the  remotest  idea 
I  was  to  meet  you  — not  the  remotest." 

Norma  recovered  herself  sufficiently  to  say  with  a  faint 
smile : 

"  So  this  has  been  a  conspiracy  between  you  and  Connie 
Deering  ? " 

Aline  caught  consent  in  the  tone,  and  ignored  the 
question. 

"  Shall  I  send  him  up  to  you  ?  "  she  asked  breathlessly. 

"  Yes,"  said  Norma. 

There  was  a  girl's  glad  cry,  a  girl's  impulsive  kiss,  and 
Norma  was  left  alone  in  the  room.  She  had  yielded.  In 
a  few  moments  he  would  be  with  her  —  the  man  who  had 
said,  "  Her  voice  haunts  me  like  music  heard  in  sleep  .  .  . 
I  worship  her  like  a  Madonna  ...  I  love  her  as  the  man 
of  hot  blood  loves  a  woman  .  .  .  My  soul  is  a  footstool 
for  her  to  rest  her  feet  upon,"  and  other  flaming  words 
of  unforgettable  passion  ;  the  man  for  whom  one  instant  of 

267 


Where  Love  Is 

her  life  had  been  elemental  sex  ;  the  man  whose  love  had 
transfigured  her  on  canvas  into  the  wonder  among  women 
that  she  might  have  been  ;  the  man  standing  in  a  slough  of 
infamy,  whose  rising  vapours  wreathed  themselves  into  a 
halo  about  his  head.  She  clenched  her  hands  and  set  her 
teeth,  wrestling  with  herself. 

"  My  God  !  What  kind  of  a  fool  am  I  becoming  ?  " 
she  breathed. 

Training,  the  habit  of  the  mask,  came  to  her  aid.  Jim- 
mie,  entering,  saw  only  the  royal  lady  who  had  looked 
kindly  upon  him  in  the  golden  September  days.  She  came 
to  meet  him  frankly,  as  one  meets  an  old  friend.  A  new 
vision  revealed  to  her  the  heart  that  leapt  into  his  eyes,  as 
they  rested  upon  her.  Mistress  of  herself,  she  hardened 
her  own,  but  smiled  and  spoke  softly. 

"  It  is  great  good  fortune  you  have  come,  so  that  I  can 
thank  you,"  she  said.  "  But  how  can  I  ever  thank  you 
—  for  that  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  small  gift  enough,"  said  Jimmie.  "  Your  ac- 
ceptance is  more  than  thanks." 

u  I  shall  prize  it  dearly.  It  is  like  nothing  that  can  be 
bought.  It  is  something  out  of  yourself  you  are  giving 
me." 

"  If  you  look  at  it  in  that  light,"  said  he,  "  I  am  happy 
indeed." 

With  a  common  instinct  they  went  up  to  the  portrait 
and  regarded  it  side  by  side.  Conventional  words  passed. 
He  enquired  after  Morland. 

"You  have  n't  seen  him  fora  long  time?"  she  asked 
hesitatingly. 

"  Not  for  a  long  time." 

"You  must  have  been  very  lonely." 

268 


The  Moth  Meets  the  Star 

"  I  have  had  Aline  —  and  Connie  Deering  —  and  my 
work." 

"  Are  they  sufficient  for  you  ?  " 

"  Any  human  love  a  man  gets  he  can  make  fill  his  life. 
It  's  like  the  grain  of  mustard-seed." 

Norma  felt  a  thrill  of  admiration.  Not  a  tone  in  his 
voice  betrayed  complaint,  reproach,  or  bitterness.  Instead, 
he  sounded  the  note  of  thanksgiving  for  the  love  bestowed 
upon  him,  of  faith  in  the  perfect  ordering  of  the  world. 
She  glanced  at  him,  and  felt  that  she  had  wronged  him. 
No  matter  what  was  the  solution  of  the  mystery,  she  knew 
him  to  be  a  sweet-souled  man,  wonderfully  steadfast. 

"  Your  old  way,"  she  replied  with  a  smile,  sitting  down 
and  motioning  him  to  a  chair  beside  her.  "  Do  you  re- 
member that  we  first  met  in  this  very  room  ?  You  have  not 
changed.  Have  I  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  said  gravely,  "  you  were  always  beautiful, 
without  and  within.  I  told  you  that  then,  if  you  remem- 
ber. Perhaps,  now,  you  are  a  little  truer  to  yourself." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  she  asked,  somewhat  bitterly. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  the  approach  of  your  great  happiness," 
blundered  Jimmie,  in  perfect  conviction.  She  was  silent. 
"  It  has  been  more  to  me  than  I  can  say,"  he  went  on, 
"  to  see  you  once  again  —  as  you  are,  before  your  marriage. 
I  wish  you  many  blessings  —  all  that  love  can  bring 
you." 

"  Do  you  think  love  is  necessary  for  married  happiness  ?  " 

u  Without  it  marriage  must  be  a  horror,"  said  Jimmie. 

For  a  moment  she  was  on  the  brink  of  harsh  laughter. 
Did  he  sincerely  believe  she  was  in  love  with  Morland  ? 
She  could  have  hurled  the  question  at  him.  Will  checked 
the  rising  hysteria  and  turned  it  into  other  channels. 

269 


Where  Love  Is 

"  Why  have  you  never  married  ?  You  must  have  loved 
somebody  once." 

It  was  a  relief  to  hurt  him.  The  dusk  was  gathering 
in  the  room,  and  she  could  scarcely  see  his  face.  A 
Sunday  stillness  filled  the  quiet  square  outside.  The  hour 
had  its  dangers. 

"  My  having  loved  a  woman  does  not  necessarily  imply 
that  I  could  have  married  her,"  said  Jimmie. 

The  evasion  irritated  her  mood,  awoke  a  longing  to 
make  him  speak.  She  drew  her  chair  nearer,  bent  forward, 
so  that  the  brim  of  her  great  hat  almost  brushed  his  fore- 
head and  the  fragrance  of  her  overspread  him. 

"  Do  you  remember  a  picture  you  would  n't  show  me  in 
your  studio  ?  You  called  it  a  mad  painter's  dream.  You 
said  it  was  the  Ideal  Woman." 

"  You  said  so,"  replied  Jimmie. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it." 

"  It  is  mine  no  longer  to  show  you,"  said  Jimmie. 

"  I  think  you  must  have  loved  that  woman  very  deeply." 

She  was  tempting  him  as  she  had  tempted  no  man 
before,  feeling  a  cruel,  senseless  joy  in  it.  His  voice 
vibrated. 

"  Yes.     I  loved  her  infinitely." 

"  What  was  she  like  ?  " 

"Like  all  the  splendid  flowers  of  the  earth  melted  into 
one  rose,"  said  Jimmie. 

"  I  wish  some  one  had  ever  said  that  about  me,"  she 
whispered. 

u  Many  must  have  thought  it." 

"  She  must  be  a  happy  woman  to  be  loved  by  you." 

"  By  me  ?  Who  am  I  that  I  could  bring  happiness  to  a 
woman  ?  I  have  never  told  her." 

270 


The  Moth  Meets  the  Star 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  whispered.  "  Do  you  suppose  you 
can  love  a  woman  without  her  knowing  it  ?  " 

"  In  what  way  can  the  star  be  cognisant  of  the  moth's 
desire  ?  "  said  Jimmie,  going  back  to  the  refrain  of  his 
love. 

"  You  a  moth  and  she  a  star  !  You  are  a  man  and 
she  is  but  a  trumpery  bit  of  female  flesh  that  on  a  word 
would  throw  herself  into  your  arms." 

"  No,"  said  Jimmie,  hoarsely.  "  No,  you  don't  know 
what  you  are  saying." 

The  temptation  to  goad  him  was  irresistible. 

"  We  are  all  of  us  alike,  all  of  us.     Tell  her." 

"  I  dare  n't." 

"  Tell  me  who  she  is." 

She  looked  at  him  full,  with  meaning  in  her  eyes,  which 
glowed  like  deep  moons  in  the  dusk.  He  brought  all  his 
courage  into  his  glance.  He  was  the  master.  She  turned 
away  her  head  in  confusion,  reading  his  love,  his  strength, 
his  loyalty.  A  lesser  man  loving  her  would  have  thrown 
honour  to  the  winds.  A  curious  reverence  of  him  filled 
her.  She  felt  a  small  thing  beside  him.  All  doubts 
vanished  forever.  Her  faith  in  him  was  as  crystal  clear 
as  Aline's. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  mention  her  name,"  he  said  after  a 
pause. 

Norma  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  passed  her  handker- 
chief across  her  lips. 

"  Would  you  do  anything  in  the  world  she  asked  you  ?  " 
she  murmured. 

"  I  would  go  through  hell  for  her,"  said  Jimmie. 

There  was  another  span  of  silence,  tense  and  painful. 
Jimmie  broke  it  by  saying : 

271 


Where  Love  Is 

"  Why  should  you  concern  yourself  about  my  fantastic 
affairs  ?  They  merely  belong  to  dreamland  —  to  the  twilight 
and  the  stillness.  They  have  no  existence  in  the  living 
world." 

"  If  I  thought  so,  should  I  be  sitting  in  the  twilight 
and  the  stillness  listening  to  you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Or  even 
if  I  did,  may  I  not  enter  into  dreamland  too  for  a  few  little 
minutes  before  the  gates  are  closed  to  me  forever  ?  Why 
should  you  want  to  shut  me  out  of  it  ?  Do  you  think 
much  loye  has  come  my  way  ?  Yours  are  the  only  lips 
I  have  ever  heard  speak  of  It." 

"  Morland  loves  you,"  said  Jimmie,  tremulously. 

The  door  opened.  The  electric  light  was  switched  on, 
showing  two  pale,  passion-drawn  faces,  and  Connie  Deering 
brought  her  sweet  gaiety  into  the  room. 

"  If  I  had  known  you  two  were  sitting  in  the  dark  like 
this,  I  should  have  come  up  earlier.  Is  n't  it  nice,  Norma, 
to  have  Jimmie  back  again  ?  " 

The  spell  was  broken.  Norma  gave  an  anxious  look 
at  the  clock  and  fled,  after  hurried  farewells. 

The  mistress  of  the  house  arched  her  pretty  eyebrows 
as  she  returned  to  Jimmie. 

«  Eh  bien  ?  " 

"  Connie  —  He  cleared  his  throat.  "  You  have  kept 
my  secret  ?  " 

"  Loyally,"  she  said.     "  Have  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  done  my  best.  God  knows  I  have  done  my 
best." 

He  sat  down,  took  up  a  book  and  began  to  turn  the 
leaves  idly.  Connie  knelt  down  before  the  fire  and  put  on 
a  fresh  log.  This  done,  she  came  to  his  side.  He  took 
her  hand  and  looked  up  into  her  face. 

272 


The  Moth  Meets  the  Star 

"  I  have  n't  thanked  you,  Connie.  I  do  with  all  my 
heart." 

She  smiled  at  him  with  an  odd  wistfulness. 

"You  once  thanked  me  in  a  very  pretty  manner,"  she 
said.  "  I  think  I  deserve  it  again." 


Chapter  XXII 
CATASTROPHE 

CONNIE  DEERING  was  dining  that  Sunday  even- 
ing with  some  friends  at  the  Carlton,  an  engage- 
ment which  had  caused  her  to  decline  an  invitation 
to  the  Hardacres'.  The  prospect,  however,  for  once  did  not 
appeal  to  her  pleasure-loving  soul.  She  sighed  as  she 
stepped  into  her  brougham,  and  wished  as  she  drove  along 
that  she  were  sitting  at  home  in  the  tea-gown  and  tran- 
quillity harmonious  with  a  subdued  frame  of  mind.  Problems 
worried  her.  What  had  passed  between  Norma  and 
Jimmie  ?  Ordinary  delicacy  had  forbidden  her  questioning, 
and  Jimmie  had  admitted  her  no  further  into  his  confidence. 
In  that  she  was  disappointed.  When  a  sentimental  woman 
asks  for  a  kiss,  she  expects  something  more.  She  was  also 
half  ashamed  of  herself  for  asking  him  to  kiss  her.  A 
waspish  little  voice  within  proclaimed  that  it  was  not 
so  much  for  Jimmie's  sake  as  for  her  own ;  that  her  life- 
long fondness  for  Jimmie  had  unconsciously  slid  on  to  the 
rails  that  lead  to  absurdity.  She  drew  her  satin  cloak 
tightly  around  her  as  if  to  suffocate  the  imp,  and  returned 
to  her  speculation.  Something  had  happened  —  of  that 
there  was  no  doubt —  something  serious,  agitating.  It  could 
be  read  on  both  their  faces.  Had  she,  who  alone  knew 
the  hearts  of  each,  done  right  in  bringing  them  together  ? 
What  had  been  her  object  I  Even  if  a  marriage  between 

274 


Catastrophe 

them  had  not  been  too  ludicrous  for  contemplation,  it 
would  not  have  been  fair  towards  her  cousin  Morland 
to  encourage  this  intrigue.  She  vowed  she  had  been  a 
little  fool  to  meddle  with  such  gunpowdery  matters.  And 
yet  she  had  acted  in  all  innocence  for  Jimmie's  sake.  It 
was  right  for  Norma  to  be  friends  with  him  again.  It  was 
monstrous  he  should  suffer.  If  he  could  not  marry  the 
woman  he  loved,  at  least  he  could  have  the  happiness  of 
knowing  himself  no  longer  a  blackened  wretch  in  her  eyes. 
But  then,  Norma  had  taken  it  into  her  head  to  love  him 
too.  Had  she  done  right  ?  Her  thoughts  flew  round  in 
a  vicious  circle  of  irritatingly  small  circumference,  occa- 
sionally flying  off  on  the  tangent  of  the  solicited  kiss. 

The  first  person  she  met  in  the  vestibule  of  the  Carlton 
was  Theodore  Weever.  They  exchanged  greetings,  dis- 
covered they  belonged  to  the  same  party.  She  had  come 
across  him  frequently  of  late  in  the  houses  that  Norma  and 
herself  had  as  common  ground.  In  a  general  way  she  liked 
him ;  since  Norma  had  told  her  of  his  view  of  the  scandal, 
he  had  risen  high  in  her  estimation ;  but  to-night  he  seemed 
to  be  a  link  in  the  drama  that  perplexed  her,  and  she 
shrank  from  him,  as  from  something  uncanny.  He  sat 
next  her  at  table.  His  first  words  were  of  Jimmie. 

"  I  was  buying  pictures  yesterday  from  a  friend  of 
yours  —  Padgate." 

In  her  pleasure  Connie  forgot  her  nervousness. 

"  Why,  he  never  told  me." 

"  He  could  scarcely  have  had  time  unless  he  telephoned 
or  telegraphed." 

"  He  was  at  my  house  this  afternoon,"  she  explained. 

He  carefully  peppered  his  oysters,  then  turned  his  impels 
turbable  face  towards  her. 

275 


Where  Love  Is 

"  So  was  Miss  Hardacre." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  "  she  cried,  startled. 

"  I  was  calling  in  Devonshire  Place.  Her  mother  told 
me.  I  am  not  necromantic." 

His  swift  uniting  of  the  two  names  perturbed  her.  She 
swallowed  her  oysters  unreflectingly,  thus  missing  one  of 
her  little  pleasures  in  life,  for  she  adored  oysters. 

"  Which  pictures  did  you  buy  ? "  she  asked. 

"  The  one  I  coveted  was  not  for  sale.  It  was  a  portrait 
of  Miss  Hardacre.  I  don't  think  he  meant  me  to  see 
it,  but  I  came  upon  him  unawares.  Have  you  seen  it  ? " 

They  discussed  the  portrait  for  awhile.  Connie  repeated 
her  former  question.  Weever  replied  that  he  had  bought 
the  picture  of  the  faun  looking  at  the  vision  of  things  to 
come,  and  the  rejected  Italian  study.  Connie  expressed  her 
gladness.  They  contained  Jimmie's  best  work. 

"  Very  fine,"  Weever  admitted, "  but  just  failing  in  finish. 
Nothing  like  the  portrait." 

There  was  an  interval.  Connie  exchanged  remarks 
with  old  Colonel  Pawley,  her  right-hand  neighbour,  who 
expatiated  on  the  impossibility  of  consuming  Bortsch  soup 
with  satisfaction  outside  Russia.  The  soup  removed, 
Weever  resumed  the  conversation. 

44  Have  you  -read  your  Lamartine  thoroughly  ?  I  have. 
I  was  sentimental  once.  He  says  somewhere,  Aimer  pour 
etre  aim'e,  c'est  de  fhomme;  mats  aimer  pour  aimer^  c'est 
presque  de  tange.  I  remember  where  it  comes  from.  It 
was  said  of  Cecco  in  4  Graziella.'  Our  friend  Padgate 
reminds  me  of  Cecco.  Do  you  care  much  about  your 
cousin  Morland  King,  Mrs.  Deering?" 

Connie,  entirely  disconcerted  by  his  manner,  looked  at 
him  beseechingly. 

276 


Catastrophe 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  that  ?  " 

"  Because  he  is  one  of  the  dramatis  persona  in  a 
pretty  little  comedy  on  which  the  curtain  is  not  yet  rung 
down." 

She  greatly  dared.     "  Are  you  too  in  the  caste  ?  " 

Theodore  Weever  deliberately  helped  himself  to  fish 
before  replying.  Then  with  equal  deliberation  he  -stared 
into  her  flushed  and  puzzled  face. 

"  I  hope  so.  A  leading  part,  perhaps,  if  you  are  the 
clever  and  conscientious  woman  I  take  you  to  be." 

"  What  part  has  my  cousin  Morland  played  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  must  leave  you  the  very  simple  task  of  guessing,"  said 
Weever  5  and  he  took  advantage  of  her  consternation  to 
converse  with  his  left-hand  neighbour. 

"  I  have  painted  a  peculiarly  successful  fan,  dear  Mrs. 
Deering,"  said  Colonel  Pawley,  in  his  purring  voice.  "  A 
wedding-present  for  our  dear  Miss  Hardacre.  I  have 
never  been  so  much  pleased  with  anything  before.  I  should 
like  you  to  see  it.  When  may  I  come  and  show  it  you  ?  " 

"  The  wedding  is  fixed  for  two  o'clock  on  Wednesday," 
said  Connie,  answering  like  a  woman  in  a  dream.  The 
bright  room,  the  crowd  of  diners,  the  music,  the  voice  of 
the  old  man  by  her  side,  all  faded  from  her  senses,  eclipsed 
by  the  ghastly  light  that  dawned  upon  her.  Only  one 
meaning  could  be  attached  to  Weever's  insinuations.  A 
touch  on  the  arm  brought  her  back  to  her  surroundings  with 
a  start.  It  was  Colonel  Pawley. 

u  I  hope  there  is  nothing  — "  he  began,  in  a  tone  of 
great  concern. 

u  No,  nothing.  Really  nothing.  Do  forgive  me,"  she 
interrupted  in  confusion.  "You  were  telling  me  some- 
thing. Oh,  I  'm  dreadfully  sorry." 

277 


Where  Love  Is 

"  It  was  about  the  fan,"  said  Colonel  Pawley,  sadly. 

«  A  fan  ?  " 

"  Yes,  for  dear  Miss  Hardacre  —  a  wedding-present." 

She  listened  to  a  repetition  of  the  previous  remarks  and 
to  a  description  of  the  painting,  and  this  time  replied  cohe- 
rently. She  would  be  delighted  to  see  both  the  fan  and 
himself  to-morrow  morning.  The  kind  old  man  launched 
into  a  prothalamion.  The  happy  couple  were  a  splendidly 
matched  pair  —  Norma  the  perfect  type  of  aristocratic 
English  beauty;  Morland  a  representative  specimen  of 
the  British  gentleman,  the  safeguard  of  the  empire,  a 
man,  a  thorough  good  fellow,  incapable  of  dishonour,  a 
landed  proprietor.  He  had  sketched  out  a  little  wedding- 
song  which  he  would  like  to  present  with  the  fan.  Might 
he  show  that,  too,  to  Mrs.  Deering  ? 

It  was  a  dreadful  dinner.  On  each  side  the  distressing 
topic  hemmed  her  in.  In  vain  she  tried  to  make  her  old 
friend  talk  of  travel  or  gastronomy  or  the  comforts  of  his 
club ;  perverse  fate  brought  him  always  back  to  Norma's 
wedding.  She  was  forced  to  listen,  for  to  Weever  she 
dared  not  address  a  remark.  She  longed  for  escape,  for 
solitude  wherein  to  envisage  her  dismay.  No  suspicion  of 
Morland's  complicity  in  the  scandal  had  crossed  her  mind. 
Even  now  it  seemed  preposterous  for  a  man  of  honour  to 
have  so  acted  towards  his  dearest  and  most  loyal  friend,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  unhappy  things  that  had  gone  before. 
Suddenly,  towards  the  end  of  dinner,  she  revolted.  She 
turned  to  Weever. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it." 

"Of  what,  dear  lady  ?  " 

"  Of  what  you  have  told  me  about  Morland  and  Jimmic 
Padgate." 

278 


Catastrophe 

"  I  have  told  you  nothing  —  absolutely  nothing,"  he  re- 
plied in  his  expressionless  way.  "  Please  remember  that. 
I  don't  go  about  libelling  my  acquaintances." 

"  I  shall  go  and  ask  Morland  straight,"  she  said  with 
spirit. 

"  Au  succes"  said  Weever. 

Dinner  over,  the  little  party  went  into  the  lounge.-  The 
screened  light  fell  pleasantly  on  palms  and  pretty  dresses, 
and  made  the  place  reposeful  after  the  glare  of  the  dining- 
room,  whose  red  and  white  and  gold  still  gleamed  through 
the  door  above  the  steps.  The  red-coated  band  played  a 
seductive,  almost  digestive  air.  A  circle  of  comfortable 
chairs  reserved  by  the  host,  invited  the  contented  diner  to 
languorous  ease  and  restful  gossip.  It  was  the  part  of  a 
Carlton  dinner  that  Connie  usually  enjoyed  the  most.  She 
still  took  her  pleasures  whole-heartedly,  wherein  lay  much 
of  her  charm.  The  world,  as  Jimmie  once  told  her,  had 
not  rubbed  the  dust  off  her  wings.  But  to-night  the  sweet 
after-dinner  hour  was  filled  with  fears  and  agitations,  and 
while  the  party  was  settling  down,  she  begged  release  from 
her  host  on  the  score  of  headache,  and  made  her  escape. 

She  would  carry  out  her  threat  to  Weever.  She  would 
see  Morland  before  she  slept,  and  ask  him  to  free  her  from 
this  intolerable  suspicion.  She  was  a  loyal,  simple  woman, 
for  all  her  inconsequent  ways  and  close  experience  of  the 
insincerities  of  life ;  devoted  to  her  friends,  a  champion  of 
their  causes  ;  loving  to  believe  the  best,  disturbed  beyond 
due  measure  at  being  forced  to  believe  the  worst.  Jimmie 
had  most  of  her  heart,  more  of  it  than  she  dared  confess. 
But  there  were  places  in  it  both  for  Norma  and  for  Mor- 
land. The  latter  was  her  cousin.  She  had  known  him 
all  her  life.  To  believe  him  to  have  played  this  sorry  part 

279 


Where  Love  Is 

in  what  it  pleased  Theodore  Weever  to  call  a  pretty 
comedy  was  very  real  pain  to  the  little  lady.  Her  head- 
ache was  no  pretence.  No  spirit  of  curiosity  or  interfer- 
ence drove  her  to  the  Hardacres',  where  she  knew  she 
would  find  Morland ;  rather  a  desire  to  rid  herself  of  a 
nightmare.  Granted  the  possibility  of  baseness  on  Mor- 
land's  part,  all  the  dark  places  in  the  lamentable  busi- 
ness became  light.  That  was  the  maddening  part  of 
Weever's  solution.  And  would  it  apply  to  the  puzzle  of 
the  afternoon  ?  Had  Norma  known  ?  Had  Jimmie  told 
her?  The  pair  had  been 'agitated  enough  for  anything 
to  have  happened.  Theodore  Weever,  too,  had  calmly 
avowed  himself  an  actor  in  the  comedy.  What  part  was 
he  playing  ?  She  shivered  at  the  conjecture.  He  looked 
like  a  pale  mummy,  she  thought  confusedly,  holding  in  his 
dull  eyes  the  inscrutable  wisdom  of  the  Sphinx.  Mean- 
while the  horses  were  proceeding  at  a  funereal  pace.  She 
pulled  the  checkstring  and  bade  the  coachman  drive  faster. 
The  scene  that  met  her  eyes  when  the  servant  showed 
her  into  the  Hardacres'  drawing-room  was  unexpected. 
Instead  of  the  ordinary  after-dinner  gathering,  only  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hardacre  and  Morland  were  in  the  room. 
The  master  of  the  house,  very  red,  very  puffy,  sat  in  an 
armchair  before  the  fire,  tugging  at  his  mean  little  red 
moustache.  Mrs.  Hardacre,  her  face  haggard  with  anxiety, 
stood  apart  with  Morland,  whose  heavy  features  wore  an 
expression  of  worry,  apology,  and  indignation  curiously 
blended.  On  a  clear  space  of  carpet  a  couple  of  yards 
from  the  door  lay  some  strings  of  large  pearls.  Connie 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  three  people  who 
had  evidently  been  interrupted  in  the  midst  of  an  anxious 
discussion.  Here,  again,  something  had  happened. 

280 


Catastrophe 

Mrs.  Hardacre  shook  hands  with  her  mechanically.  Mr. 
Hardacre  apologised  for  not  rising.  That  infernal  gout 
again,  he  explained,  pointing  to  the  slashed  slipper  of  a  foot 
resting  on  a  hassock.  Norma  had  made  it  worse.  He  had 
been  infernally  upset. 

"  Norma  ?  "  Connie  turned  and  looked  inquiringly  at 
the  other  two. 

"  Oh,  an  awful  scene,"  said  Morland,  gloomily.  "  I 
wish  to  heaven  you  had  been  here.  You  might  have  done 
something." 

"  Perhaps  you  might  bring  her  to  her  senses  now,  though 
I  doubt  it.  I  think  she  has  gone  crazy,"  said  Mrs. 
Hardacre. 

"  But  what  has  occurred  ?  " 

"  She  declares  she  won't  marry  me,  that 's  all.  There 's 
my  wedding-present  on  the  floor.  Tore  it  from  her  neck 
as  she  made  her  exit.  I  don't  know  what 's  going  to 
happen  ! " 

"  Where  is  she  now  ? " 

"  Up  in  her  room  smashing  the  rest  of  her  wedding- 
presents,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Hardacre. 

"  Eh,  what  ?  Can't  do  that.  All  locked  up  downstairs  in 
the  library,"  came  from  the  chair  by  the  fire. 

"  Oh,  don't  make  idiotic  remarks,  Benjamin,"  snapped 
his  wife,  viciously. 

The  air  was  electric  with  irritation.  Connie,  a  peace- 
maker at  heart,  forgot  her  mission  in  the  face  of  the  new 
development  of  affairs,  and  spoke  soothingly.  Norma 
could  not  break  off  the  engagement  three  days  before  the 
wedding.  Such  things  were  not  done.  She  would  come 
round.  It  was  merely  an  attack  of  nerves.  They  refused 
to  be  comforted. 

281 


Where  Love  Is 

"  God  knows  what  it  is,"  said  Morland.  "  I  thought 
things  were  perfectly  square  between  us.  She  was  n't 
cordial  before  dinner,  I  '11  admit ;  but  she  let  me  put  those 
beads  round  her  neck.  I  asked  her  to  wear  them  all  the 
evening,  as  there  were  only  the  four  of  us." 

"  The  Spencer-Temples  sent  an  excuse  this  afternoon," 
Mrs.  Hardacre  explained. 

"  She  agreed,"  Morland  continued.  "  She  wore  them 
through  dinner.  Then  everything  any  one  of  us  said 
seemed  to  get  on  her  nerves.  I  talked  about  the  House. 
She  withered  me  up  with  sarcasm.  We  talked  about  the 
wedding.  She  begged  us,  for  God's  sake,  to  talk  of  some- 
thing else.  We  tried,  so  as  to  pacify  her.  But  of 
course  it  was  hardly  possible.  I  said  I  had  met  Lord 
Monzie  yesterday  —  told  me  he  and  his  wife  were  coming 
on  Wednesday.  She  asked  whether  Ascherberg  and  the 
rest  of  Monzie's  crew  of  money-lenders,  harlots,  and  fools 
were  coming  too.  I  defended  Monzie.  He  's  a  friend  of 
mine  and  a  very  decent  sort.  She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
You  know  her  way.  Mrs.  Hardacre  changed  the  subject. 
After  dinner  I  saw  her  alone  for  a  bit  in  the  drawing-room. 
She  asked  me  to  take  back  the  pearls.  Said  they  were 
throttling  her.  Had  n't  we  better  reconsider  the  whole 
matter  ?  There  was  still  time.  That  was  the  beginning 
of  it.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hardacre  came  up.  We  did  all  we 
knew.  Used  every  argument.  People  invited.  Bishop 
to  perform  ceremony.  Duchess  actually  coming.  Society 
expected  us.  The  scandal.  Her  infernally  bad  treatment 
of  myself.  No  good.  Whatever  we  said  only  made  her 
worse.  Ended  up  with  a  diatribe  against  society.  She 
was  sick  of  its  lies  and  its  rottenness.  She  was  going  to 
have  no  more  of  it.  She  would  breathe  fresh  pure  air. 

282 


Catastrophe 

The  Lord  knows  what  she  did  n't  say.  All  of  us  came  in 
for  it.  Said  shocking  things  about  her  mother.  Said  I 
did  n't  love  her,  had  never  loved  her.  A  loveless  marriage 
was  horrible.  Of  course  I  am  in  love  with  her.  You  all 
know  that.  I  said  so.  She  would  n't  listen.  Went  on 
with  her  harangue.  We  could  n't  stop  her.  She  would  n't 
marry  me  for  all  the  bishops  and  duchesses  in  the  world. 
At  last  I  lost  my  temper  and  said  it  was  my  intention  to 
marry  her,  and  marry  me  she  should.  Don't  you  think  I 
was  quite  right  ?  She  lost  hers,  I  suppose,  tore  off  the 
pearls,  made  a  sort  of  peroration,  declaring  she  would  sooner 
die  than  commit  the  infamy  of  marrying  me — and  that 's 
the  end  of  it." 

He  threw  out  his  hands  in  desperation  and  turned  away. 
His  account  of  events  from  his  point  of  view  was  accurate. 
To  him,  as  to  Norma's  parents,  her  final  revolt  appeared 
the  arbitrary  act  of  unreason.  They  still  smarted  resent- 
fully under  her  lashes,  incapable  of  realising  the  sins  for 
which  they  were  flagellated. 

If  she  had  remained  at  home  that  afternoon  and  con- 
tinued to  practise  insensibility,  she  would  probably  have 
followed  the  line  of  least  resistance  during  the  evening. 
Or,  on  the  other  hand,  if  she  could  have  been  alone,  a 
night's  fevered  sleeplessness  would  have  caused  dull  reaction 
in  the  morning.  The  cold  contempt  for  things  outside  her, 
which  had  served  for  strength,  was  now  gone,  leaving  a 
helpless  woman  to  be  swayed  by  passion  or  led  spiritless  by 
convention.  The  heroic  in  her  needed  the  double  spur. 
Passion  shook  her  ;  miserable  bondage,  claiming  her,  drove 
her  to  rebellion.  She  rose  to  sublime  heights,  undreamed 
of  in  her  earth-bound  philosophy. 

She  had  gone  into  the  street  after  her  interview  withjim- 

283 


Where  Love  Is 

mie,  white,  palpitating,  torn.  Though  the  man  had  spoken 
tremulous  words,  it  was  the  unspoken,  the  wave  of  longing 
and  all  unspeakable  things  in  whose  heaving  bosom  they  had 
been  caught,  that  mattered.  The  Garden  of  Enchantment 
had  thrown  wide  its  gates ;  she  had  been  admitted  within 
its  infinitely  reaching  vistas,  and  flowers  of  the  spirit  had 
bared  their  hearts  before  her  eyes.  Dressing,  she  strove  to 
kill  the  memory,  to  deafen  her  ears  to  the  haunting  music, 
to  clear  her  brain  of  the  intoxication.  A  thing  hardly  a 
woman,  hardly  a  coherent  entity,  but  half  marble,  half- 
consuming  fire,  stood  before  Morland,  as  he  clasped  the 
pearl  necklace  around  her  throat.  The  touch  of  it  against 
her  skin  caused  a  shudder.  Up  to  then  sensation  had 
blotted  out  thought.  But  now  the  brain  worked  with 
startling  lucidity.  There  was  yet  time  to  escape  from  the 
thraldom.  The  Idea  gathered  strength  from  every  word 
and  incident  during  the  meal.  The  commonness,  sordidness, 
emptiness  of  the  life  behind  and  around  and  before  her  were 
revealed  in  the  unpitying  searchlight  of  an  awakened  soul. 

She  pleaded  with  Morland  for  release.  The  necklace 
choked  her.  She  unclasped  it.  He  refused  to  take  it 
back.  She  was  his.  He  loved  her.  Her  conduct  was  an 
outrage  on  his  affections.  She  dared  him  to  an  expression 
of  passionate  feeling.  He  failed  miserably,  and  her  anger 
grew.  Unhappily  he  spoke  of  an  outrage  upon  Society. 
She  fastened  on  the  phrase.  His  affection  and  Society  ! 
One  was  worth  the  other.  Society  —  the  Mumbo  Jumbo  — 
the  grotesque  false  god  to  which  women  were  offered  up  in 
senseless  sacrifice  !  Her  mother  instanced  the  bishop  and 
the  duchess  as  avatars  of  the  divinity.  Norma  poured 
scorn  on  the  hierarchy.  Mrs.  Hardacre  implored  her 
•daughter  by  her  love  for  her  not  to  humiliate  her  thus  in 

284 


Catastrophe 

the  world's  eyes.  She  struck  the  falsest  of  notes. 
Norma  turned  on  her,  superb,  dramatic,  holding  the  three 
in  speechless  dismay.  Love !  what  love  had  been  given 
her  that  she  should  return  ?  She  had  grown  honest. 
The  gods  of  that  house  were  no  longer  her  gods.  They 
were  paltry  and  dishonoured,  shams  and  hypocrisies.  Once 
she  worshipped  them.  To  that  she  had  been  trained  from 
her  cradle.  Her  nurses  dangled  the  shams  before  her  eyes. 
The  women  who  taught  her  bent  fawning  knees  before  the 
shrines  of  the  false  gods.  A  mother's  love  ?  what  had  she 
learned  from  her  mother  ?  To  simper  and  harden  her 
heart.  That  the  envy  of  other  simpering  hardened  women 
was  the  ultimate  good.  That  the  dazzling  end  of  a  young 
girl's  career  was  to  capture  some  man  of  rank  and  fortune 
—  that  when  she  was  married  her  lofty  duty  was  to  wear 
smarter  clothes,  give  smarter  parties,  and  to  inveigle  to  her 
house  by  any  base  and  despicable  means  smarter  people 
than  her  friends.  What  had  she  learned  from  her  mother  ? 
To  let  men  of  infamous  lives  leer  at  her  because  they  had 
title  or  fortune.  To  pay  court  to  shameless  women  in  the 
hope  of  getting  to  know  still  more  shameless  men  who 
might  dishonour  her  with  their  name.  She  had  never 
been  young  —  never,  never,  with  a  young  girl's  freshness  of 
heart.  She  spoke  venom  and  was  praised  for  wit.  She 
was  the  finished  product  of  a  vapid  world.  Her  whole 
existence  had  been  an  intricate  elaboration  of  shams  —  mis- 
erable, empty,  despicable  futilities.  How  dared  her  mother 
stand  before  her  and  talk  of  love  ? 

Then  a  quick  angry  scene,  a  crisp  thud  of  the  pearls  on 
the  floor,  a  stormy  exit  —  and  that,  as  Morland  said,  was 
the  end  of  it.  The  three  were  left  staring  at  each  other  in 
angry  bewilderment. 

285 


Where  Love  Is 

In  the  face  of  this  disaster  Connie  could  not  fir\d  ft  in 
her  heart  to  reproach  Morland,  still  less  to  hint  at  Theodore 
Weever's  insinuation.  Rather  did  she  reproach  herself  for 
being  the  cause  of  the  catastrophe,  and  she  was  smitten 
with  a  sense  of  guilt  when  Mrs.  Hardacre  turned  upon  her 
accusingly. 

u  She  had  tea  with  you,  did  n't  she  ?  Did  you  notice 
anything  wrong  ?  " 

"She  didn't  seem  quite  herself — was  nervous  and 
strange,"  said  Connie,  diplomatically.  "  I  think  I  had 
better  go  up  and  talk  to  her,"  she  added  after  an  anxious 
pause. 

"Yes,  do,  for  God's  sake,  Connie,"  said  Morland. 

She  nodded,  smiled  the  ghost  of  her  bright  smile,  and, 
glad  of  escape,  went  upstairs.  The  three  sat  in  gloomy 
silence,  broken  only  by  Mr.  Hardacre's  maledictions  on  his 
gout.  It  was  a  bitter  hour  for  them. 

In  a  few  moments  Connie  burst  into  the  room,  with 
a  letter  in  her  hand.  She  looked  scared. 

"  We  can't  find  her.     She  's  not  in  the  house." 

"  Not  in  the  house  !  "  shrieked  Mrs.  Hafdacre. 

Morland  brought  his  hand  down  heavily  on  the  piano. 

"  I  heard  the  front  door  slam  half  an  hour  ago  !  " 

"This  is  addressed  to  you,  Mrs.  Hardacre.  It  was 
stuck  in  her  looking-glass." 

Mrs.  Hardacre  opened  the  note  with  shaky  fingers. 
It  ran  : 

"  I  mean  what  I  say.  I  had  better  leave  you  all,  at  least  till 
after  Wednesday.  My  stopping  here  would  be  more  than  you  or 
I  could  stand." 

Mr.  Hardacre  staggered  with  a  gasp  of  pain  to  his  feet, 
and  his  weak  eyes  glared  savagely  out  of  his  puffy  red  faoe. 

286 


Catastrophe 

"  Damme,  she  must  come  back  !  If  she  does  n't  sleep 
here  to-night,  I  '11  cut  her  off.  I  won't  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  her.  She  has  got  to  come  back." 

"  All  right.  Go  and  tell  her,  then,"  retorted  his  wife. 
"  Where  do  you  suppose  you  are  going  to  find  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  is  sure  to  have  gone  to  my  house,"  said  Connie. 

"  But  suppose  she  has  n't,"  said  Morland,  anxiously. 
"  She  was  in  such  a  state  that  anything  is  possible." 

"  Come  with  me  if  you  like.      The  brougham  is  here." 

"  And  you  go  too,  Eliza,  and  bring  her  home  with  you, 
d'ye  hear?"  cried  Mr.  Hardacre.  "If  you  don't,  she'll 
never  set  foot  in  my  house  again.  I  'm  damned  if  she 
shall !  " 

His  wife  looked  at  him  queerly  for  a  moment ;  then  she 
meekly  answered : 

"  Very  well,  Benjamin." 

Once  only  during  their  long  married  life  had  she  flouted 
him  when  he  had  spoken  to  her  like  that.  Then  in  un- 
governable fury  he  had  thrown  a  boot  at  her  head. 

Mr.  Hardacre  glared  at  Morland  and  Connie,  and 
scrambled  cursing  into  his  chair. 


Chapter  XXIII 
NORMA'S   HOUR 

SOMETHING  had  happened  —  something  mysteri- 
ous,  quickening;    a   pulsation   of  the   inmost   har- 
monies of  life.      Its  tremendous  significance  Jimmie 
dared  not   conjecture.      It   was  to   be   interpreted    by   the 
wisdom  of  the  simplest,  yet  that  interpretation  he  put  aside. 
It  staggered  reason.     It  was  enough  for  them  to  have  met 
together  in   an  unimagined   intimacy  of  emotion,  to  have 
shared  the  throb  of  this  spiritual  happening. 

She  was  to  be  married  in  three  days.  He  set  the  fact  as 
a  block  to  further  investigation  of  the  mystery.  On  this 
side  his  loyalty  suffered  no  taint ;  their  relations  had  but 
received,  in  some  sense,  sanctification.  Beyond  the  barrier 
lay  shame  and  dishonour.  The  two  were  to  be  married; 
therefore  they  loved.  He  disciplined  a  disordered  mind 
with  a  logic  of  his  own  invention.  It  was  a  logic  that 
entirely  begged  the  question.  Remembered  words  of 
Norma,  "  Do  you  think  much  love  has  come  my  way  ? 
Yours  are  the  only  lips  I  have  ever  heard  speak  of  it,"  fell 
outside  his  premises.  They  clamoured  for  explanation. 
So  did  the  rich  tremor  of  her  voice.  So  did  the  lament- 
able lack  of  conviction  in  his  reply.  To  these  things  he 
closed  his  intelligence.  They  belonged  to  the  interpretation 
that  staggered  reason,  that  threatened  to  turn  his  funda- 
mental conceptions  into  chaos.  And  past  incidents  came 


Norma's  Hour 

before  him.  During  those  last  days  in  Wiltshire  he  had 
seen  that  her  life  lacked  completion.  That  memory,  too, 
disturbed  his  discipline.  Fanatically  he  practised  it,  prov- 
ing to  himself  that  ice  was  hot  and  that  the  sun  shone  at 
midnight.  She  was  happy  in  her  love  for  Morland.  She 
was  happy  in  Morland's  love  for  her.  She  had  not 
identified  with  herself  the  imaginary  woman  of  his  adora- 
tion. She  had  not  drunk  in  the  outpouring  of  his  passion. 
Her  breath  had  not  fallen  warm  upon  his  cheek.  And  the 
quickening  of  a  wonderful  birth  had  no  reference  to  emo- 
tions and  cravings  quite  different,  intangible,  inexpressible, 
existent  in  a  far-away  spirit  land. 

He  was  strangely  silent  during  their  homeward  journey 
in  the  omnibus  and  the  simple  evening  meal,  and  Aline, 
sensitive  to  his  mood,  choked  down  the  eager  questions 
that  rose  to  her  lips.  It  was  only  after  supper  in  the 
studio,  when  she  lit  the  spill  for  Jimmie's  pipe  —  her  eco- 
nomical soul  deprecating  waste  in  matches  —  that  she 
ventured  to  say  softly : 

"  I  am  afraid  you  '11  miss  the  picture,  Jimmie  dear." 

He  waited  until  the  pipe  was  alight,  and  breathed  out  a 
puff  of  smoke  with  a  sigh. 

"  Our  happiness  is  made  up  of  the  things  we  miss,"  he 
said. 

"  That 's  a  paradox,  and  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Aline. 

"  Everything  in  life  is  a  paradox,"  he  remarked,  thinking 
of  his  logic.  He  relapsed  into  his  perplexed  silence. 
Aline  settled  herself  in  her  usual  chair  with  her  workbasket 
and  her  eternal  sewing.  This  evening  she  was  recuffing 
his  shirts.  Presently  she  held  up  a  cuff. 

"  See.     I  'm  determined  to  make  you  smart  and  fashion- 
able.    I  don't  care  what  you  say.     These  are  square." 
19  289 


Where  Love  la 

"  Are  n't  you  putting  a.  round  man  into  a  square  cuff,  my 
dear  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  laughed.  "  Why  should  you  be  round  ?  You  are 
smart  and  rectangular.  When  you  're  tidied  up  —  don't  you 
know  you  are  exceedingly  good-looking,  almost  military  ?  " 

She  was  delighted  to  get  him  back  to  foolish  talk.  His 
preoccupation  had  disturbed  her.  Like  Connie  Deering, 
she  was  femininely  conscious  that  something  out  of  the 
ordinary  had  passed  between  Norma  and  Jimmie,  and 
apprehension  as  to  her  dear  one's  peace  of  mind  had  filled 
her  with  many  imaginings.  He  returned  a  smiling  answer. 
She  bestirred  herself  to  amuse.  Had  he  remarked  the 
man  in  the  omnibus  ?  His  nose  cut  it  into  two  compart- 
ments. What  would  he  do  if  he  had  such  a  nose  ? 
Jimmie  felt  that  he  had  been  selfish  and  fell  into  the  child's 
humour.  He  said  that  he  would  blow  it.  They  dis- 
cussed the  subject  of  noses.  He  quoted  Tristram  Shandy. 
Did  she  remember  him  reading  to  her  "  Slawkenbergius's 
Tale  "  ? 

"  The  silliest  story  I  ever  heard  in  my  life ! "  cried 
Aline.  "  It  had  neither  head  nor  tail." 

"That  is  the  beauty  of  it,"  said  Jimmie.  "It  is  all 
nose." 

"  No.  The  only  story  about  a  nose  that  is  worth  any- 
thing," Aline  declared  with  conviction  of  her  age  and  sex, 
"  is  t  Cyrano  de  Bergerac.' '  She  paused  as  a  thought 
passed  swiftly  through  her  mind.  "  Do  you  know,  if  you 
had  a  nose  like  that,  you  would  remind  me  of  Cyrano?  " 

"  Why,  I  don't  go  about  blustering  and  carving  my 
fellow-citizens  into  mincemeat." 

"  No.  But  you  —  "  She  began  unreflectingly,  then  she 
stopped  short  in  confusion.  Cyrano,  Roxana,  Christian  j 

290 


Norma's  Hour 

Jimmie,  Norma,  Morland  —  the  parallel  was  of  an  em- 
barrassing nicety.  She  lost  her  head,  reddened,  saw  that 
Jimmie  had  filled  the  gap. 

"  I  don't  care,"  she  cried.  "  You  are  like  him.  It 's 
splendid,  but  it 's  senseless.  You  are  worth  a  million  of 
the  other  man,  and  she  knows  it  as  well  as  I  do." 

She  vindictively  stitched  at  the  cuff.  Jimmie  made  no 
reply,  but  lay  back  smoking  his  pipe.  Aline  recovered  and 
grew  remorseful.  She  had  destroyed  with  an  idiotic  word 
the  little  atmosphere  of  gaiety  she  had  succeeded  in  creat- 
ing. She  pricked  her  finger  several  times  At  last  she 
rose  and  knelt  by  his  side. 

"  I  'm  sorry,  Jimmie.      Don't  be  vexed  with  me." 

He  looked  at  her,  wrinkling  his  forehead  half  humorously, 
half  sadly,  and  patted  her  cheek. 

"  No,  dear, "  he  said.  "  But  I  think  Slawkenbergius's 
the  better  tale.  Shall  I  read  it  you  again  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Jimmie,"  cried  the  girl,  half  crying,  half  laugh- 
ing. "  Please  don't,  for  heaven's  sake.  I  've  not  been  as 
naughty  as  that !  " 

She  resumed  her  sewing.  They  talked  of  daily  things. 
Theodore  Weever's  purchases.  The  faun  —  he  was  sorry 
to  lose  it  after  its  companionship  for  all  these  years.  He 
would  paint  a  replica  —  but  it  would  not  be  the  same  thing. 
Other  times,  other  feelings.  Gradually  the  conversation 
grew  spasmodic,  dwindled.  Jimmie  brooded  over  his 
mystery,  and  Aline  stitched  in  silence. 

The  whirr  of  the  front  door-bell  aroused  them.  Aline 
put  down  her  work. 

"  It 's  Renshaw,"  said  Jimmie. 

Renshaw,  a  broken-down,  out-at-heels,  drunken  black- 
and-white  artist,  once  of  amazing  talent,  was  almost  the 

291 


Where  Love  Is 

only  member  of  a  large  Bohemian  coterie  who  continued  to 
regard  Jimmie  as  at  home  to  his  friends  on  Sunday  even- 
ings. Jimmie  bore  with  the  decayed  man,  and  helped  him 
on  his  way,  and  was  pained  when  Aline  insisted  upon  open- 
ing the  windows  after  his  departure.  Renshaw  had  been  a 
subject  of  contention  between  them  for  years. 

"  He  has  only  come  to  drink  whisky  and  borrow 
money.  Luckily  we  haven't  any  whisky  in  the  house," 
said  Aline. 

"  We  can  give  him  beer,  my  child.  And  if  the  man  is 
in  need  of  half  a  crown,  God  forbid  we  should  deny  it 
him.  Has  Hannah  come  home  yet  ? " 

"  I  don't  think  so.     It  is  n't  ten  o'clock." 

"  Then  let  him  in,  dear,"  said  Jimmie,  finally. 

Aline  went  upstairs  with  some  unwillingness.  She  dis- 
approved entirely  of  Renshaw.  She  devoutly  hoped  the 
man  was  sober.  As  she  opened  the  front  door,  the  sharp 
sound  of  a  turning  cab  met  her  ears,  and  the  cloaked  tall 
figure  of  a  woman  met  her  astonished  eyes. 

"  Miss  Hardacre  !  " 

"  Yes,  dear.     Won't  you  let  me  in  ?  " 

The  girl  drew  aside  quickly,  and  Norma  passed  into  the 
hall. 

"  You  ?  "  cried  Aline.     "  I  don't  understand." 

"  Never  mind.     Is  Mr.  —  is  Jimmie  at  home  ?  " 

"Jimmie !  "  The  girl's  heart  leaped  at  the  name.  She 
stared  wide-eyed  at  Norma,  whose  features  she  could 
scarcely  discern  by  the  pin-point  of  gas  in  the  hall-lamp. 
"  Yes.  He  is  in  the  studio." 

"  Can  I  see  him  ?     Alone  ?     Do  you  mind  ?  " 

In  dumb  astonishment  Aline  took  the  visitor  to  the 
head  of  the  stairs,  half  lit  by  the  streak  of  light  from 

292 


Nor  ma's  Hour 

the  open  studio  door.     Norma  paused,  beat  forward,  and 
kissed  her  on  the  cheek. 

"  I  know  my  way,"  she  whispered. 

Jimmie  heard  the  rustle  of  skirts  that  were  not  Aline's, 
and  springing  to  his  feet,  hurried  towards  the  door.  But 
before  he  could  reach  it  Norma  entered  and  stood  before 
him.  Her  long  dark  silk  evening  cloak  was  open  at  the 
throat,  showing  glimpses  of  white  bare  neck.  Its  high 
standing  collar  set  off  the  stately  poise  of  her  head.  She 
wore  the  diamond  star  in  her  hair.  To  the  wondering 
man  who  gazed  at  her  she  was  a  vision  of  radiant  beauty. 
They  held  each  other's  eyes  for  a  second  or  two ;  and  the 
first  dazzling  glory  in  which  she  seemed  to  stand  having 
faded,  Jimmie  read  in  her  face  that  desperate  things  had  come 
to  pass.  He  caught  her  hands  as  she  came  swiftly  forward. 

"  Why  are  you  here  ?     My  God,  why  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  I  could  stand  it  no  longer,"  she  said  breathlessly.  "  I 
am  not  going  to  marry  Mprland.  I  have  cut  myself  adrift. 
They  all  know  it.  I  told  them  so  this  evening.  The 
horror  of  it  was  unbearable.  I  have  done  with  it  forever 
and  ever." 

"  The  horror  of  it  ?  "  echoed  Jimmie. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  a  horror  for  two  people  to  marry 
who  have  never  even  pretended  to  love  each  other  ?  You 
said  so  this  afternoon." 

He  released  her  hands  and  turned  aside.  Even  the  deep 
exulting  sense  of  what  her  presence  there  must  mean 
could  not  mitigate  a  terrible  dismay.  The  interpretation 
that  staggered  reason  was  the  true  and  only  one.  He  had 
been  living  in  a  dream,  among  shadow-shapes  which  he 
himself  had  cast  upon  the  wall.  Even  now  he  could  not 
grasp  completely  the  extent  of  his  heroical  self-deception. 

293 


Where  Love  Is 

"There  has  never  been  any  love  between  you  and 
Morland  ?  It  has  been  a  cold-blooded  question  of  a 
marriage  of  convenience  ?  I  thought  so  differently." 

"  Since  when  ?  "  she  asked.     "  Since  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"No  —  not  since  this  afternoon." 

"  If  it  had  n't  been  for  you,  I  should  have  married  him. 
You  made  it  impossible.  You  taught  me  things.  You 
made  me  hate  myself  and  my  mean  ambitions.  That  was 
why  I  hesitated  —  put  it  off  till  Easter.  If  I  had  n't 
seen  you  this  afternoon  I  should  have  gone  through  with  it 
on  Wednesday.  When  I  got  home  I  could  n't  face  it. 
He  put  some  pearls  —  a  wedding-present  —  round  mjr 
neck.  They  seemed  like  dead  fingers  choking  out  my 
soul.  At  last  it  grew  horrible.  I  said  things  I  don't 
remember  now.  I  could  n't  stay  in  the  house.  It  suffo- 
cated me.  It  would  have  sent  me  mad.  I  think  a  cab 
whirled  me  through  the  streets.  I  don't  know.  I  have 
burnt  my  ships." 

She  stopped,  panting,  with  her  hands  on  her  bosom. 
His  exultation  grew,  and  fear  with  it.  He  was  like  a  child 
trembling  before  a  joy  too  great  to  be  realised,  frightened 
lest  it  should  vanish.  He  said  without  looking  at  her: 

"  Why  have  you  come  here  ?  " 

"Where  else  should  I  go  ?  Unless — "  She  halted  on 
the  word. 

"  Unless  what  ?  " 

She  broke  into  an  impatient  cry. 

"  Oh,  can't  you  speak  ?  Do  you  want  me  to  say  every- 
thing ?  There  is  no  need  for  you  to  be  silent  any  longer." 
She  faced  him.  "  Who  was  the  woman  —  the  picture 
woman  we  spoke  of  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"You,"  he  said.  "You.  Who  else  ?"  There  was 

294 


Norma's  Hour 

a  quiver  of  silence.     Then  he  caught  her  to  him.     He  spoke 
foolish  words.     Their  lips  met,  and  passion  held  them. 

"  Had  I  anywhere  else  to  go  ? "  she  whispered ;  and 
he  said,  "  No." 

She  released  herself,  somewhat  pale  and  shaken.  Jimmie, 
scarcely  knowing  what  he  did,  took  off  her  cloak  and  threw 
it  on  the  long  deal  table.  The  sudden  fresh  chill  on  arms 
and  neck  made  her  realise  that  they  were  bare.  It  was 
his  doing.  She  blushed.  A  delicious  sense  of  shyness 
crept  over  her.  It  soon  passed.  But  evanescent  though 
it  was,  it  remained  long  in  her  memory. 

Jimmie  took  her  in  his  arms  again.      He  said  : 

"You  madden  me.  I  have  loved  you  so  long.  I  am 
like  a  parched  soul  by  a  pool  of  Paradise." 

He  took  her  by  the  hand,  led  her  to  his  chair  near 
the  stove,  and  knelt  by  her  side.  She  looked  at  him,  the 
edges  of  her  white  teeth  together,  her  lips  parted.  She  was 
living  the  moment  that  counts  for  years  in  a  woman's  life. 
She  can  only  live  it  once.  Great  joy  or  endless  shame 
may  come  afterwards,  but  this  moment  shall  ever  be  to 
her  comfort  or  her  despair. 

He  asked  her  how  she  had  known. 

"You  told  me  so." 

"  When  ?  " 

"At  Heddon.  Do  you  think  I  shall  ever  forget  your 
words  ? "  She  laughed  divinely  at  the  puzzledom  on  his 
face.  "  No.  You  were  too  loyal  to  tell  me  —  but  you 
told  Connie  Deering.  Hush  !  Don't  start.  Connie  did 
not  betray  you.  She  is  the  staunchest  soul  breathing.  You 
and  she  were  on  the  slope  by  the  croquet  lawn  —  do  you 
remember  ?  There  was  a  hedge  of  clipped  yew  above  —  " 

"  And  you  overheard  ?  " 

295 


Where  Love  Is 

She  laughed  again,  happily,  at  his  look  of  distress. 

41 1  should  be  rather  pleased  —  now  —  if  I  were  you," 
she  said  in  the  softer  and  deeper  tones  of  her  voice. 

A  few  moments  later  he  said,  u  You  must  give  me  back 
the  portrait.  I  shall  burn  it." 

«  Why  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  million  times  more  beautiful,  more  adorable." 

He  asked  her  when  she  had  begun  to  think  of  him  — 
the  eternal,  childlike  question.  She  met  his  lover's  gaze 
steadily.  Frankness  was  her  great  virtue. 

"  It  seems  now  that  I  have  cared  for  you  since  the  first 
day.  You  soon  came  into  my  life,  but  I  did  n't  know 
how  much  you  represented.  Then  I  heard  you  speaking 
to  Connie.  That  mattered  a  great  deal.  When  that  man 
shot  you,  I  knew  that  I  loved  you.  I  thought  you  were 
dead.  I  rushed  down  the  slope  and  propped  you  up  against 
my  knees  —  and  I  thought  I  should  go  mad  with  agony." 

"  I  never  heard  of  that,"  said  Jimmie  in  a  low  voice. 

He  became  suddenly  thoughtful,  rose  to  his  feet  and 
regarded  her  with  a  changed  expression,  like  that  of  a  man 
awakened  from  a  dream. 

"  What  is  going  to  be  the  end  of  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

Norma,  for  once  unperceptive  and  replying  to  a  small 
preoccupation  of  her  own,  flushed  to  her  hair. 

"I  know  Connie  well  enough  to  look  her  up  and  ask 
her  for  hospitality." 

"  I  was  n't  thinking  of  that,"  said  Jimmie.  "  We  have 
been  like  children  and  had  our  hour  of  joy,  without  think- 
ing of  anything  else.  Now  we  must  be  grown-up  people. 
After  what  has  passed  between  us,  I  could  only  ask  you  to 
be  my  wife." 

"  I  came  here  for  you  to  ask  me,"  she  said. 

296 


Nbrma's  Hour 

"  I  have  no  right  to  do  so,  dear.  I  bear  a  dishonoured  name. 
The  wonder  and  wild  desire  of  you  made  me  forget." 

She  looked  at  him  strangely,  her  lips  working  in  the 
shadow  of  her  old  smile  of  mockery. 

"  That  proves  to  me  that  it  is  your  name  and  not  your- 
self that  is  dishonoured.  If  it  had  been  yourself,  you  would 
not  have  forgotten." 

Jimmie  drew  himself  up,  and  there  was  a  touch  of 
haughtiness  in  his  manner  that  Norma  in  her  woman's 
way  noted  swiftly.  In  spite  of  his  homeliness  there  was 
the  undefinable  spirit  of  the  great  gentleman  in  Jimmie. 

"  I  am  dishonoured.  The  matter  was  public  property. 
I  discuss  it  with  no  one,  least  of  all  with  you." 

"Very  well,"  she  said.  "Let  it  never  be  mentioned 
again  between  us.  I  range  myself  with  Aline.  I  shall 
believe  what  I  like.  You  can't  prevent  my  doing  that, 
can  you  ?  I  choose  to  believe  you  are  the  one  thing  God 
made  in  which  I  can  find  happiness.  That 's  enough  for 
me,  and  it  ought  to  be  enough  for  you." 

Jimmie  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  deeply  moved. 

"  My  dearest,  you  must  n't  say  things  like  that."  He 
repeated  the  words,  "  You  must  n't  say  things  like  that." 
Then  he  was  conscious  of  the  warm  softness  on  which 
his  hand  rested.  She  raised  her  arm  and  touched  his  fingers. 
It  was  a  moment  of  deep  temptation.  He  resisted,  drew 
his  hand  away  gently. 

"  There  is  another  reason  why  it  cannot  be,"  he  said. 
"  You  belong  to  a  world  of  wealth  and  luxury,  I  have  been  in 
poverty  all  my  life.  God  forbid  I  should  complain.  I  have 
never  done  so.  But  it  is  a  life  of  struggle  for  daily  bread. 
Aline  and  I  are  used  to  it.  We  laugh.  We  often  dine 
with  Duke  Humphrey.  We  make  believe  like  the  mar- 

297 


Where  Love  Is 

•chioness.  What  the  discipline  of  life  and  a  sort  of  gipsy 
faith  in  Providence  have  made  us  regard  as  a  jest,  would 
be  to  you  a  sordid  shift,  an  intolerable  ugliness  stripping 
life  of  its  beauty  —  " 

"  Oh,  hush  !  "  she  pleaded. 

"  No,  I  must  talk  and  you  must  listen,"  he  said  with  a 
certain  masterful  dignity.  "  Look  at  you  now,  in  the 
exquisite  loveliness  of  your  dress,  with  that  diamond  star 
in  your  hair,  with  that  queenly  presence  of  yours.  Do 
you  fit  in  with  all  this  ?  Your  place  is  in  great  houses, 
among  historic  pictures,  rare  carpets,  furniture  that  is  in- 
vested with  the  charm  of  an  artist's  touch.  The  chair  you 
are  sitting  in  —  the  leather  is  split  and  the  springs  are 
broken."  He  was  walking  now  backwards  and  forwards 
across  the  studio,  fulfilling  his  task  bravely,  scarcely  trust- 
ing himself  to  look  at  her.  "  Your  place,"  he  continued, 
*l  is  among  the  great  ones  of  the  earth  —  princes,  ambassa- 
dors, men  of  genius.  Here  are  but  the  little  folk :  even 
should  they  come,  as  they  used  to  do :  homely  men  with 
rough  ways  and  their  wives  —  sweet  simple  women  with  a 
baby  and  a  frock  a  year,  God  help  them  !  I  can't  ask  you 
to  share  this  life  with  me,  my  dear.  I  should  be  a  scoundrel 
if  I  did.  As  it  is,  I  have  fallen  below  myself  in  letting 
you  know  that  I  love  you.  You  must  forgive  me.  A 
man  is,  after  all,  a  man,  whether  he  be  beggar  or  prince. 
You  must  go  back  into  your  world  and  forget  it  all.  The 
passion-flower  cannot  thrive  in  the  hedge  with  the  dog- 
rose,  my  dearest.  It  will  pine  and  fade.  We  must  end 
it  all.  Don't  you  see  ?  You  don't  know  what  poverty 
means,  Even  decent  poverty  like  ours.  Look  —  the  men 
you  know  have  valets  to  dress  them  —  when  you  came 
Aline  was  sewing  new  cuffs  on  my  shirts.  I  don't  suppose 

298 


Norma's  Hour 

you  ever  knew  that  such  things  were  done.  Mere  exist- 
ence is  a  matter  of  ever  anxious  detail.  I  am  a  careless 
fellow,  I  am  a  selfish  brute,  like  most  men,  and  give  over 
to  the  women  folk  around  me  the  thousand  harassing  con- 
siderations of  ways  and  means  for  every  day  in  every 
year.  But  I  see  more  than  they  think.  Aline  can  tell  you. 
I  dare  n't,  my  dear,  ask  you  to  share  this  life  with  me.  I 
dare  n't,  I  dare  n't." 

He  came  to  a  stop  in  front  of  her ;  saw  her  leaning  over 
the  arm  of  the  chair  away  from  him,  her  face  covered  by 
her  hands.  Her  white  shoulders  twitched  in  little  con- 
vulsive movements. 

"  Why,  my  dear  —  my  dear  —  "  he  said  in  a  bewilder- 
ment of  distress;  and  kneeling  by  her,  he  took  her  wrists 
and  drew  them  to  him.  The  palms  of  her  hands  and  her 
cheeks  were  wet  with  miserable  tears. 

"  What  must  you  think  of  me  ?  What  futile,  feeble 
creature  must  you  think  me  ?  Heaven  knows  I  'm  degraded 
enough  —  but  not  to  that  level.  Do  you  suppose  I  ever 
thought  you  a  rich  man  ?  Oh,  you  have  hurt  me  —  flayed 
me  alive.  I  did  n't  deserve  it !  I  would  follow  you  in  rags 
barefoot  through  the  world.  What  does  it  matter  so  long 
as  it  is  you  that  I  follow  ? " 

What  could  mortal  man  do  but  take  the  wounded  woman 
of  his  idolatry  into  his  arms  ?  The  single-hearted  creature, 
aghast  at  the  havoc  he  had  wrought,  bitterly  reproached 
himself  for  want  of  faith  in  the  perfect  being.  He  had 
committed  a  horrible  crime,  plunged  daggers,  stab  after 
stab,  into  that  radiant  bosom.  She  sobbed  in  his  embrace 
—  a  little  longer  than  was  strictly  necessary.  Tears  and 
sobs  were  a  wonder  to  her,  who  since  early  childhood  had 
never  known  the  woman's  relief  of  weeping.  It  came 

299 


Where  Love  Is 

upon  her  first  as  a  wondrous  new-found  emotion ;  when 
his  strong  arms  were  about  her,  as  an  unutterably  sweet 
solace.  And  the  man's  voice  in  her  ears  was  all  that  has 
nearly  been  said  but  never  been  quite  said  in  music. 

Presently  she  drew  herself  away  from  him. 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  such  a  fool  that  I  can't  sew  ? " 

He  sank  back  on  his  heels.  She  rose,  helping  herself  to 
rise  by  a  hand  on  his  arm,  an  action  wonderfully  sweet  in 
its  intimacy,  and  crossed  over  to  Aline's  cane-bottomed, 
armless  easy-chair.  She  plucked  the  shirt  from  the  basket 
on  the  top  of  which  Aline  had  thrust  it,  groped  among  the 
wilderness  of  spools,  tape,  bits  of  ribbon,  scissors,  needle- 
cases,  patterns  and  year-old  draper's  bills  for  a  thimble, 
found  the  needle  sticking  in  the  work,  and  began  to  sew 
with  a  little  air  of  defiance.  Jimmie  looked  on,  ravished. 
He  drew  nearer. 

"  God  bless  my  soul,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say 
you  can  do  that  ?  " 

There  was  nothing  she  could  not  do  in  this  hour  of 
exaltation.  She  had  found  herself —  simple  woman  with 
simple  man.  It  was  her  hour.  Her  feet  trod  the  roots 
of  life  ;  her  head  touched  the  stars. 

"Sit  in  your  chair  and  smoke,  and  let  us  see  what  it  will 
be  like,"  she  commanded. 

He  obeyed.  But  whether  it  was  tobacco  or  gunpowder 
in  his  old  briarwood  pipe  he  could  not  have  told.  The 
poor  wretch  was  mazed  with  happiness. 

"  Poor  little  Aline  is  all  by  herself  upstairs,"  said  Norma, 
after  a  while. 

"Heaven  forgive  me,"  cried  Jimmie,  starting  up.  "I 
had  n't  thought  about  her !  " 


300 


Chapter  XXIV 
MRS.    HARbACRE   FORGETS 

WHILE    this    tragical    comedy   of  the    domestic 
felicities  was  being  enacted,  Connie  Deering's 
brougham    containing     three    agitated,    silent, 
human  beings  was  rapidly  approaching  the  scene. 

They  had  made  certain  of  finding  Norma  at  Bryanston 
Square.  The  news  that  she  had  not  arrived  disquieted 
them.  Morland  anxiously  suggested  the  police.  They 
had  a  hurried  colloquy,  Morland  and  Connie  standing  on 
the  pavement,  Mrs.  Hardacre  inside  the  carriage,  thrusting 
her  head  through  the  window.  Connie  falteringly  confessed 
to  the  meeting  of  Jimmie  and  Norma  in  the  afternoon. 
Something  serious  had  evidently  passed  between  them. 

Morland  broke  into  an  oath.  "  By  God  !  That 's  where 
she  's  gone.  Damn  him  !  " 

"  We  must  get  her  away  at  all  costs,"  said  Mrs.  Hard- 
acre,  tensely. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  my  fault,"  said  Connie. 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  Mrs.  Hardacre  replied  brutally. 
"  The  best  you  can  do  is  to  help  us  to  rescue  her." 

They  started.  The  brougham  was  small,  the  air  heavy, 
their  quest  distasteful,  its  result  doubtful.  The  sense  of 
fretfulness  became  acute.  Mrs.  Hardacre  gave  vent  to  her 
maternal  feelings.  When  she  touched  on  the  vile  seducer 
of  her  daughter's  affections,  Connie  turned  upon  her  almost 
shrewishly. 

301 


Where  Love  Is 

"  This  is  my  carriage,  and  I  am  not  going  to  hear  my 
dearest  friend  abused  in  it." 

Morland  sat  silent  and  worried.  When  they  stopped  at 
the  house,  he  said  : 

"  I  think  I  shall  stay  outside." 

Connie,  angry  with  him  for  having  damned  Jimmie,  bent 
forward. 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  facing  Jimmie  ?  "  she  said  with  a 
little  note  of  contempt. 

"  Certainly  not,"  he  replied  viciously. 

A  few  moments  later  Aline  ran  into  the  studio  with  a 
scared  face. 

"Jimmie!" 

He  went  up  to  her,  and  she  whispered  into  his  ear ;  then 
he  turned  to  Norma. 

"  Your  mother  and  Connie  and  Morland  are  upstairs. 
I  don't  suppose  you  are  anxious  to  see  them.  May  I  tell 
them  what  has  happened  ?  " 

Norma  rose  and  joined  him  in  the  centre  of  the  studio. 

"  I  would  sooner  tell  them  myself.  Can  they  come 
down  here  ? " 

"  If  you  wish  it." 

He  gave  the  order  to  Aline.  Before  going,  she  took 
him  by  the  arm  and  swiftly  glancing  at  Norma,  asked 
eagerly : 

"  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  The  wonder  of  wonders,  dear,"  said  Jimmie. 

With  a  glad  cry  she  ran  upstairs  and  brought  down  the 
visitors,  who  were  waiting  in  the  hall. 

Jimmie  stood  by  the  open  door  to  receive  them.  Norma 
retired  to  the  far  end  of  the  studio.  She  held  her  head  high, 
and  felt  astonishingly  cool  and  self-possessed.  Mrs.  Hard- 

302 


Mrs.  Hardacre  Forgets 

acre  entered  first,  and  without  condescending  to  look  at 
Jimmie  marched  straight  up  to  her  daughter.  Then  came 
Connie  and  Aline,  the  girl  excited,  her  arm  round  her 
friend's  waist.  Morland,  on  entering,  drew  Jimmie  aside. 

u  So  you  Ve  bested  me,"  he  said  in  an  angry  whisper. 
"  You  held  the  cards,  I  know.  I  did  n't  think  you  would 
use  them.  I  wish  you  joy." 

A  sudden  flash  of  pain  and  indignation  lit  Jimmie's 
eyes. 

"  Good  God,  man  !  Have  you  sunk  so  low  as  to  accuse 
me  of  that  ?  Me?" 

He  turned  away.     Morland  caught  him  by  the  sleeve. 

"  I  say  —  "  he  began. 

But  Jimmie  shook  him  off  and  went  to  the  side  of  Nor- 
ma,  who  was  listening  to  her  mother's  opening  attack.  It 
was  shrill  and  bitter.  When  she  paused,  Norma  said 
stonily : 

"  I  am  not  going  nome  with  you  to-night,  mother.  I 
sleep  at  Connie's.  She  will  not  refuse  me  a  bed." 

"Your  father  means  what  he  says." 

"So  do  I,  mother.  I  can  manage  pretty  well  without 
your  protection  till  I  am  married.  Then  I  sha'n't  need  it." 

"  Pray  whom  are  you  going  to  marry  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Hardacre,  acidly. 

"  I  should  think  it  was  obvious,"  said  Norma.  "  Mr. 
Padgate  has  done  me  the  very  great  honour  to  ask  me  to 
be  his  wife.  I  have  agreed.  I  am  over  age  and  a  free 
agent,  so  there  's  nothing  more  to  be  said,  mother." 

Mrs.  Hardacre  refused  to  take  the  announcement  seri- 
ously. Her  thin  lips  worked  into  a  smile. 

"  This  is  sheer  folly,  my  dear  Norma.  Over  age  or  not 
wre  can't  allow  you  to  disgrace  yourself  and  us  —  " 

303 


Where  Love  Is 

"  We  have  never  had  such  honour  conferred  on  us  in  all 
our  lives,"  said  Norma. 

Mrs.  Hardacre  shrugged  her  shoulders  pityingly. 

"  Among  sane  folks  it  would  be  a  disgrace  and  a  scandal. 
Even  Mr.  Padgate  would  scarcely  take  advantage  of  a  fit 
of  hysterical  folly."  She  turned  to  Jimmie.  "  I  assure 
you  she  is  hardly  responsible  for  her  actions.  You  are 
aware  what  you  would  be  guilty  of  in  bringing  her  into 
this — this  —  ?"  She  paused  for  a  word  and  waved  her 
hand  around. 

"  Hovel  ?  "  suggested  Jirhmie,  grimly.  "  Yes.  I  am 
aware  of  it.  Miss  Hardacre  must  not  consider  herself 
bound  by  anything  she  has  said  to-night." 

Connie  Deering,  who  had  come  up  waiting  for  a  chance 
to  speak,  her  forget-me-not  eyes  curiously  hard  and  danger- 
ous, broke  in  quickly  : 

"  Why  did  you  say  even  Mr.  Padgate,  Mrs.  Hardacre  ? " 

"  Mr.  Padgate  has  a  reputation  —  "  said  Mrs.  Hardacre, 
with  an  expressive  gesture. 

"Jimmie  —  " 

He  checked  his  advocate.     "  Please,  no  more." 

"  I  should  think  not,  indeed  !    Are  you  coming,  Norma  ?  " 

"You  had  better  go,"  said  Jimmie,  softly.  "Why 
quarrel  with  your  parents  ?  To-morrow,  a  week,  a  month 
hence  you  can  tell  me  your  wishes.  I  set  you  quite  free." 

Norma  made  a  movement  of  impatience. 

"  Don't  make  me  say  things  I  should  regret  —  I  am  not 
going  to  change  my  mind.  No,  mother,  I  am  not  coming." 

Morland  had  not  said  a  word,  but  stood  in  the  back- 
ground, hating  himself.  Only  Connie's  taunt  had  caused 
him  to  enter  this  maddeningly  false  position.  He  knevir 
that  his  accusation,  though  he  believed  it  true  at  the  time, 

3°4 


Mrs.  Hardacre  Forgets 

was  false  and  base.  Jimmie  was  true  gold.  He  had  not 
betrayed  him.  Connie,  when  Jimmie  had  checked  her, 
went  across  to  Morland. 

"Do you  believe  that  Jimmie  deserves  his  reputation?  " 
she  said  for  his  ears  alone. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered  moodily,  kicking  at  a 
hassock. 

"  I  do  know,"  she  said,  "  and  it 's  damnable." 

A  quick  glance  exchanged  completed  her  assurance.  He 
saw  that  she  knew,  and  despised  him.  For  a  few  moments 
he  lost  consciousness  of  exteunals  in  alarmed  contemplation 
of  this  new  thing  —  a  self  openly  despised  by  one  of  his 
equals.  Mrs.  Hardacre's  voice  aroused  him.  She  was 
saying  her  final  words  to  Norma. 

"  I  leave  you.  When  you  are  in  the  gutter  with  this 
person,  don't  come  to  ask  me  for  help.  You  can  encanailler 
yourself  as  much  as  you  like,  for  all  I  care.  This  adven- 
turer—  " 

Jimmie  interposed  in  his  grand  manner. 

u  Pray  remember,  Mrs.  Hardacre,  that  for  the  moment 
you  are  my  guest." 

"Your  guest !  "  For  the  second  time  that  evening  she 
had  been  rebuked.  Her  eyes  glittered  with  spite  and  fury. 
She  lost  control.  "  Your  guest !  If  I  went  to  rescue  my 
daughter  from  a  house  of  ill  fame,  should  I  regard  myself  as 
a  guest  of  the  keeper  ?  How  dare  you  ?  How  do  I  know 
what  does  n't  go  on  in  this  house  ?  That  girl  over 
there  —  " 

Norma  sprang  forward  and  gripped  her  by  the  arm. 

«  Mother ! " 

She  shook  herself  free.  "  How  do  I  know  ?  How  <k? 
you  know  ?  The  man's  name  stinks  over  England.  No 
20  305 


Where  Love  Is 

decent  woman  has  anything  to  do  with  him.  Have  you 
forgotten  last  autumn  ?  That  beastly  affair  ?  If  you 
choose  to  succeed  the  other  woman  — " 

"  Oh,  damn  it !  "  burst  out  Morland,  suddenly.  "  This 
is  more  than  I  can  stand.  Have  you  forgotten  what  I 
told  you  a  week  ago  ? " 

The  venomous  woman  was  brought  to  a  full  stop.  She 
stared  helplessly  at  Morland,  drawing  quick  panting  breaths. 

She  had  forgotten  that  he  was  in  the  room. 

The  cynicism  was  too  gross  even  for  him.  There  are 
limits  to  every  man's  baseness  and  cowardice.  Moreover, 
his  secret  was  known.  To  proclaim  it  himself  was  a  more 
heroic  escape  than  to  let  it  be  revealed  with  killing  con- 
tempt by  another.  The  two  forces  converged  suddenly, 
and  found  their  resultant  in  his  outburst.  It  was  charac- 
teristic of  him  that  there  should  be  two  motives,  though 
which  one  was  the  stronger  it  were  hard  to  say —  most  likely 
revolt  at  the  cynicism,  for  he  was  not  a  depraved  man. 

Norma  looked  swiftly  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  What  did  you  tell  my  mother  a  week  ago  ?  " 

Jimmie  picked  up  Morland's  crush-hat  that  lay  on  the 
table  and  thrust  it  into  his  hand. 

"  Oh,  that 's  enough,  my  dear  good  fellow.  Don't  talk 
about  those  horrible  things.  Mrs.  Hardacre  would  like  to 
be  going.  You  had  better  see  her  home.  Good-night." 

He  pushed  him,  as  he  spoke,  gently  towards  Mrs. 
Hardacre,  who  was  already  moving  towards  the  door.  But 
Norma  came  up. 

41 1  insist  upon  knowing,"  she  said. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Jimmie,  in  an  agitated  voice.  "  Let  the 
dead  past  bury  its  dead.  Don't  rake  up  old  horrors." 

Morland  cleared  himself  away  from  Jimmie. 

306 


Mrs.  Hardacre  Forgets 

"  My  God !  You  are  a  good  man.  I  Ve  been  an 
infernal  blackguard.  Everybody  had  better  know.  If 
Jimmie  had  n't  taken  it  upon  himself,  that  madman  would 
have  shot  me.  He  would  have  hit  the  right  man.  I  wish 
to  heaven  he  had." 

Norma  grew  white. 

"  And  this  is  what  you  told  my  mother  ? " 

"  I  thought  I  ought  to,"  said  Morland,  looking  away 
from  the  anxious  faces  around  him. 

"  You  should  n't  have  done  it,"  said  Jimmie,  in  a  low 
voice.  He  was  bent  like  a  guilty  person. 

Norma  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 

"  Kindly  see  my  mother  into  a  cab." 

"  Please  take  the  brougham,"  said  Connie.  "  Norma  and 
I  will  take  a  cab  later." 

Morland  made  a  movement  as  if  to  speak  to  Jimmie. 
Norma  intercepted  him,  waved  her  hand  towards  her 
mother,  who  stood  motionless. 

"  Go.  Please  go,"  she  said  in  a  constrained  voice. 
"  Take  the  brougham.  She  will  catch  cold  while  you  are 
whistling  for  a  cab  —  and  you  will  be  the  sooner  gone." 

Mrs.  Hardacre,  stunned  by  the  utter  disaster  that  she  had 
brought  about,  mechanically  obeyed  Morland's  gesture  and 
passed  through  the  open  door,  without  looking  at  her 
daughter.  As  Morland  passed  her,  he  plucked  up  a  little 
courage. 

"  We  both  lied  for  your  sake,"  he  said ;  which  might 
have  been  an  apology  or  a  tribute.  Norma  gave  no  sign 
that  she  had  heard  him. 

Jimmie  followed  them  upstairs  and  opened  the  front 
door.  He  put  out  his  hand  to  Morland,  who  took  it  and 
said  "Good-night"  in  a  shamefaced  way.  Mrs.  Hard- 

307 


Where  Love  Is 

acre  stepped  into  the  brougham  like  a  somnambulist.  Mor- 
Jand  did  not  accompany  her.  He  had  seen  enough  of  Mrs. 
Hardacre  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

When  Jimmie  went  down  to  the  studio,  he  saw  Norma 
and  Connie  bending  over  a  chair  in  the  far  corner.  Aline 
had  fainted. 

They  administered  what  restoratives  were  to  hand  — 
water  and  Connie's  smelling-salts  —  and  took  the  girl  up  to 
her  bedroom,  where  she  was  left  in  charge  of  Mrs.  Deering. 
Jimmie  and  Norma  returned  to  the  studio.  The  preoccu- 
pation of  tending  Aline,  whose  joy  in  the  utter  vindication 
of  her  splendid  faith  had  been  too  sudden  a  strain  upon  an 
overwrought  nervous  system,  had  been  welcomed  almost  as 
a  relief  to  the  emotional  tenseness.  They  had  not  spoken 
of  the  things  that  were  uppermost. 

They  sat  down  in  their  former  places,  without  exchang- 
ing a  remark.  Jimmie  took  up  his  pipe  from  the  table  by 
his  side,  and  knocked  the  ashes  into  the  ash-tray  and  blew 
through  it  to  clear  it.  Then  he  began  to  fill  it  from  his 
old  tobacco-pouch,  clumsy  as  all  covered  pouches  are  and 
rough  with  faded  clumps  of  moss-roses  and  forget-me-nots 
'worked  by  Aline  years  before. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  on  with  the  sewing  ? "  he  said. 

She  waited  a  second  or  two  before  answering,  and  when 
she  spoke  did  not  trust  herself  to  look  at  him. 

"  I  ought  to  say  something,  I  know,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice.  "  But  there  are  things  one  can't  talk  of,  only  feel." 

"  We  never  need  talk  of  them,"  said  Jimmie.  "  They 
are  over  and  done  with.  Old,  forgotten,  far-off  things 
now." 

41  Are  they  ?  You  don't  understand.  They  will  always 
remain.  They  make  up  your  life.  You  are  too  big  for 

308 


Mrs.  Hardacre  Forgets 

such  as  me  altogether.  By  rights  I  should  be  on  my  knees 
before  you.  Thank  God,  I  did  n't  wait  until  I  learned  all 
this,  but  came  to  you  in  faith.  I  feel  poor  enough  to  hug 
that  to  myself  as  a  virtue." 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  believed  in  me,"  said  Jimmie,  lay- 
ing down  the  unlit  pipe  which  he  had  been  fondling.  "  I 
would  n't  be  human  if  I  did  n't  —  but  you  must  n't  exag- 
gerate. Exposure  would  have  ruined  Morland's  career,  and 
I  thought  it  would  go  near  breaking  your  heart.  To  me, 
an  insignificant  devil,  what  did  it  matter  ?  " 

"  Did  n't  my  love  for  you  matter  ?  Did  n't  all  that  you 
have  suffered  matter?  Oh,  don't  minimise  what  you 
have  done.  I  am  afraid  of  you.  Your  thoughts  are  not 
my  thoughts,  and  your  ways  not  my  ways.  You  will  al- 
ways be  among  the  stars  while  I  am  crawling  about  the 
earth." 

Jimmie  rose  hurriedly  and  fell  at  her  feet,  and  took  both 
her  hands  and  placed  them  against  his  cheeks. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  moved  to  his  depths.  "  My  dear. 
My  wonderful,  worshipped,  God-sent  dear.  You  are 
wrong  —  utterly  wrong.  I  am  only  a  poor  fool  of  a  man, 
as  you  will  soon  find  out,  whose  one  merit  is  to  love  you. 
I  would  sell  my  body  and  my  soul  for  you.  If  I  made  a 
little  sacrifice  for  the  love  of  you,  what  have  you  done  to- 
night for  me  —  the  sacrifice  of  all  the  splendour  and  grace 
of  life  ? " 

"  The  lies  and  the  rottenness,"  said  Norma,  with  a 
shiver.  "  Did  you  comprehend  my  mother  ?  " 

He  took  her  hands  from  his  face  and  kissed  her  fingers. 

"  Dear,  those  are  the  unhappy,  far-off  things.  Let 
us  forget  them.  They  never  happened.  Only  one  thing 
in  the  world  has  ever  happened.  You  have  come  to  me, 

309 


Where  Love  Is 

Norma,"  he  said  softly,  speaking  her  name  for  the  first 
tremulous  time,  "  Norma  !  " 

Their  eyes  met,  and  then  their  lips.  The  world  stood 
still  for  a  space.  She  sighed  and  looked  at  him. 

"You  will  have  to  teach  me  many  things,"  she  said. 
"  You  will  have  to  begin  at  the  very  beginning." 


310 


Chapter  XXV 
THE   LAND   OF   ENCHANTMENT 

EVERY  one  knew  that  the  marriage  arranged  be- 
tween Morland  King  and  Norma  Hardacre  would 
not  take  place.  It  was  announced  in  the  "  Times  " 
and  "  Morning  Post "  on  the  Tuesday  morning ;  those 
bidden  to  the  wedding  received  hurried  messages,  and  a 
day  or  two  later  the  wedding-gifts  were  returned  to  the 
senders,  who  stored  them  up  for  some  happier  pair.  But 
the  new  engagement  upon  which  Norma  had  entered 
remained  a  secret.  Norma  herself  did  not  desire  to  com- 
plete the  banquet  of  gossip  she  had  afforded  society,  and 
Mrs.  Hardacre  was  not  anxious  to  fill  to  overflowing  the 
cup  of  her  own  humiliation.  The  stricken  lady  maintained 
a  discreet  reserve.  The  lovers  had  quarrelled,  Norma  had 
broken  off  the  match  and  would  not  be  going  out  for  some 
time.  She  even  defied  the  duchess,  who  commanded  an 
explicit  statement  of  reasons.  Her  grace  retorted  severely 
that  she  ought  to  have  brought  her  daughter  up  better,  and 
signified  that  this  was  the  second  time  Norma  had  behaved 
with  scandalous  want  of  consideration  for  her  august  con- 
venience. "  She  shall  not  have  the  opportunity  of  doing  it 
again.  I  dislike  being  mixed  up  in  scandals,"  said  the 
duchess ;  and  Mrs.  Hardacre  saw  the  gates  of  Wiltshire 
House  and  Chiltern  Towers  closed  to  her  forever.  But 
of  the  impossible  painter  wretch  she  spoke  not  a  word, 

3" 


Where  Love  Is 

hoping  desperately  that  in  some  mysterious  fashion  the 
God  of  her  fathers  would  avert  this  crowning  disgrace  from 
them  and  would  lead  Norma  forth  again  into  the  paths  of 
decency  and  virtue.  As  for  her  husband,  he  storm ily 
refused  to  speak  or  hear  the  outcast's  name.  He  had  done 
with  her.  She  should  never  sleep  again  beneath  the  roof 
she  had  dishonoured.  He  would  not  allow  her  a  penny. 
He  would  cut  her  out  of  his  will.  She  had  dragged  him 
in  the  mud,  and  by  heaven  !  she  could  go  to  the  devil !  It 
took  much  to  rouse  the  passions  of  the  feeble,  mean-faced 
little  man  ;  but  once  they  w'ere  roused,  he  had  the  snarling 
tenacity  of  the  fox.  Mrs.  Hardacre  did  not  tell  him  of 
Morland's  confession  and  the  rehabilitation  of  his  rival. 
The  memory  of  her  stunning  humiliation  brought  on  a 
feeling  akin  to  physical  nausea.  She  strove  to  bury  it  deep 
down  in  her  sub-oonsciousness,  beneath  all  the  other  un- 
hallowed memories.  There  were  none  quite  so  rank.  On 
the  other  hand,  her  husband's  vilification  of  the  detested 
creature  was  a  source  of  consolation  which  she  had  no 
desire  to  choke.  Why  should  she  deny  herself  this  com- 
fort "  The  supreme  joy  of  vitriol  throwing  was  not 
countenanced  in  her  social  sphere.  At  odd  times  she 
regretted  that  she  was  a  lady. 

While  the  black  fog  of  depression  darkened  Devonshire 
Place,  in  neighbouring  parts  of  London  the  days  were 
radiant.  A  thousand  suns  glorified  the  heavens  and  the 
breaths  of  a  thousand  springs  perfumed  the  air.  It  was  a 
period  of  exaggeration,  unreality,  a  page  out  of  a  fairy  tale 
lived  and  relived.  Norma  abandoned  herself  to  the  intoxi- 
cation, heedless  of  the  fog  in  Devonshire  Place,  and  the 
decent  grey  of  the  world  elsewhere.  She  refused  to  think 
or  speculate.  Rose  veils  shrouded  the  future  j  the  present 

312 


The  Land  of  Enchantment 

was  a  fantasy  of  delight.  For  material  things,  food,  shelter, 
raimen-t,  she  had  no  concern.  Connie  fed  and  housed  her, 
making  her  the  thrice  welcome  guest,  the  beloved  sister. 
From  society  she  withdrew  altogether.  Visitors  paid  calls, 
odd  people  were  entertained  at  meals,  the  routine  of  a 
wealthy  woman's  establishment  proceeded  in  its  ordinary 
course,  and  Norma's  presence  in  the  house  remained 
unknown  and  unsuspected.  She  was  there  in  hiding. 
The  world  was  given  to  understand  that  she  was  in  Corn- 
wall. Even  common  life  had  thus  its  air  of  romance  and 
mystery.  Being  as  it  were  a  fugitive,  she  had  no  engage- 
ments. There  was  a  glorious  incongruity  in  the  position. 
She  regarded  the  beginnings  of  the  London  season  with  the 
amused  detachment  of  a  disembodied  spirit  revisiting  the 
scenes  of  which  it  once  made  a  part.  Morning,  afternoon, 
and  evening  she  was  free  —  an  exhilarating  novelty.  No- 
body wanted  to  see  her  save  Jimmie ;  save  him  she  wanted 
to  see  nobody. 

They  met  every  day  —  sometimes  in  the  sitting-room  on 
the  ground  floor  which  Connie  had  set  apart  for  her  guest's 
exclusive  use,  and  sometimes  in  Jimmie's  studio.  Now 
and  then,  when  the  weather  was  fine,  they  walked  together 
in  sweet  places  unfrequented  by  the  fashionable  world, 
Regent's  Park  and  Hampstead  Heath,  fresh  woods  and 
pastures  new  to  Norma,  who  had  heard  of  the  heath  vaguely 
as  an  undesirable  common  where  the  lower  orders  wore 
each  other's  hats  and  shied  at  cocoanuts.  Its  smiling  lone- 
liness and  April  beauty,  seen  perhaps  through  the  artist's 
eyes,  enchanted  her.  Jimmie  pointed  out  its  undulations ; 
like  a  bosom,  said  he,  swelling  with  the  first  breaths  of 
pure  air  on  its  release  from  London. 

Most  of  all  she  loved  to  drive  up  to  St.  John's  Wood 
313 


Where  Love  Is 

after  dinner  and  burst  upon  him  unexpectedly.     The  new 
Bohemian  freedom  of  it  all  was  a  part  of  the  queer  delicious 
life.     She  laughed  in   anticipation  at  his  cry   of  delighted 
welcome.     When  she  heard   it,  her  eyes  grew  soft.     To 
lift  her  veil  and  hang  back  her  head  to  receive  his  kiss  on 
her  lips  was  an  ever-new  sensation.     The  intimacy  had  a 
bewildering  sweetness.     To  complete   it  she  threw  aside 
gloves  and  jacket  and  unpinned   her    hat,  a  battered   gilt 
Empire  mirror  over  the  long  table  serving  her  to  guide  the 
necessary  touches  to  her  hair.     Although  she  did  not  repeat 
the  little  comedy  of  the  shirt  which  had  been  inspired  by 
the  exaltation  of  a  rare  moment,  yet  she  sat  in  Aline's  chair, 
now  called    her  own,  and  knitted    at  a  silk   tie  she   was 
making  for  him.     She  had  learned  the  art  from  her  aunt 
in  Cornwall,  and  she  brought  the  materials  in  a  little  black 
silk  bag  slung  to  her  wrist.     The   housewifely   avocation 
fitted  in  with  the  fairy  tale.     Jimmie  smoked  and  talked, 
the  most  responsive  and  least  tiring  of  companions.      His 
allusive  speech,  that  of  the  imaginative  and  cultured  man, 
in  itself  brought  her  into  a  world  different  from  the  one  she 
had  left.      His  simplicity,  his  ignorance  of  the  ways   of 
women,  his  delight  at  the  little  discoveries  she  allowed  him 
to  make,  gave  it  a  touch  of  Arcadia.      In  passionate  mo- 
ments there  was    the  unfamiliar,  poetic,  rhapsodic  in  his 
utterance  which  turned  the  world  into  a  corner  of  heaven. 
And  so  the  magic  hours  passed. 

"  I  do  believe  I  have  found  a  soul,"  she  remarked  on 
one  of  these  evenings,  "  and  that 's  why  I  must  be  so 
immoderately  happy.  I  'm  like  a  child  with  a  new  toy." 

She  was  unconscious  of  the  instinctive,  pitiless  analysis 
of  herself;  and  Jimmie,  drunk  with  the  wonder  of  her,  did 
not  heed  the  warning. 


The  Land  of  Enchantment 

Of  their  future  life  together  they  only  spoke  as  happy 
lovers  in  the  rosy  mist  shed  about  them  by  the  veil.  They 
dwelt  in  the  glamour  of  the  fairy  tale,  where  the  princess 
who  marries  the  shepherd  lives  not  only  happy  ever  after- 
wards, but  also  delicately  dressed  and  daintily  environed, 
her  chief  occupation  being  to  tie  silk  bows  round  the 
lambs'  necks,  and  to  serve  to  her  husband  the  whitest  of 
bread  and  the  whitest  of  cheese  with  the  whitest  of  hands. 
Their  forecast  of  the  future  might  have  been  an  Idyll  of 
Theocritus. 

"You  will  be  the  inspiration  of  all  my  pictures,  dear," 
said  Jimmie. 

"  I  will  sit  for  you  as  a  model,  if  I  am  good  enough." 

"  Good  enough !  "  Language  crumbled  into  meaning- 
less vocables  before  her  mhnite  perfection.  "  I  have  had 
a  little  talent.  You  will  give  me  genius." 

"  I  will  also  give  you  your  dinn -jr."  She  laughed  ador- 
ably. "  Do  you  know  Connie  told  me  I  must  learn  to 
cook.  I  had  my  first  lesson  this  morning  in  her  kitchen 
—  a  most  poetic  way  of  doing  sweetbreads.  Do  you  like 
sweetbreads  ? " 

"  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  do.  Enormously.  I 
wonder  why  Aline  never  has  them." 

"We'll  have  some  —  our  first  lunch  — at  home." 

"  And  you  will  cook  them  ? "  cried  the  enraptured  man. 

She  nodded.  "  In  a  most  becoming  white  apron.  You  '11 
see." 

"  You  '11  be  like  a  goddeas  taking  her  turn  preparing  the 
daily  ambrosia  for  Olympuf !  "  said  Jimmie. 

On  another  occasion  they  spoke  of  summer  holidays. 
They  would  take  a  little  cottage  in  the  country.  It  would 
have  honeysuckle  over  the  porch,  and  beds  of  mignonette 


Where  Love  Is 

under  the  windows,  and  an  old-fashioned  garden  full  of 
stocks  and  hollyhocks  and  sunflowers.  There  would  be 
doves  and  bees.  They  would  go  out  early  and  come 
home  with  the  dew  on  their  feet.  They  would  drink 
warm  milk  from  the  cow.  They  would  go  a  hay-making. 
Norma's  idea  of  the  pastoral  pathetically  resembled  that  of 
the  Petit  Trianon. 

The  magic  of  the  present  with  its  sincerity  of  passion- 
ate worship  on  the  part  of  the  man,  and  its  satisfaction 
of  a  soul's  hunger  on  the  part  of  the  woman,  was  in  itself 
enough  to  blind  their  eyes  to  the  possible  prose  of  the 
future.  Another  interest,  one  of  the  sweetest  of  outside 
interests  that  can  bind  two  lovers  together,  helped  to  fix 
their  serious  thoughts  to  the  immediate  hour.  Side  by  side 
with  their  romance  grew  up  another,  vitally  interwoven 
with  it  for  a  spell  and  now  springing  clear  into  independent 
life.  The  two  children  Aline  and  Tony  Merewether  had 
found  each  other  again,  and  the  fresh  beauty  of  their  young 
loves  lit  the  deeper  passion  of  the  older  pair  with  the  light 
of  spring  sunrise.  In  precious  little  moments  of  confi- 
dence Aline  opened  to  Norma  her  heart's  dewy  happiness, 
and  what  Norma  in  delicate  honour  could  divulge  she  told 
to  Jimmie,  who  in  his  turn  had  his  little  tale  to  bear.  More 
ind  more  was  existence  like  the  last  page  of  a  fairy  book. 

The  reconciliation  of  the  younger  folk  had  been  a  very 
simple  matter.  It  was  the  doing  of  Connie  Deering. 
The  morning  after  Morland's  confession  she  summoned 
Tony  Merewether  to  an  interview.  He  arrived  wonder- 
ing. She  asked  him  point  blank : 

"Are  you  still  in  love  with  Aline  Marden  or  have  you 
forgotten  all  about  her  ?  "  * 

The  young  fellow  declared  his  undying  affection. 

316 


The  Land  of  Enchantment 

"  Are  you  aware  that  you  have  treated  her  shamefully  ?  " 
she  said  severely. 

"  I  am  the  most  miserable  dog  unhung,"  exclaimed  the 
youth.  He  certainly  looked  miserable,  thin,  and  worried. 
He  gave  his  view  of  the  position.  Connie's  heart  went 
out  to  him. 

"  Suppose  I  told  you  that  everything  was  cleared  up  and 
you  could  go  to  Aline  with  a  light  conscience  ? " 

"  I  should  go  crazy  with  happiness  !  "  he  cried,  springing 
to  his  feet. 

"  Aline  deserves  a  sane  husband.  She  is  one  in  a 
thousand." 

"  She  is  one  in  twenty  thousand  million  ! " 

"There  she  goes,  hand  in  hand  with  Jimmie  Padgate. 
It 's  to  tell  you  that  I  've  asked  you  to  come.  I  hope  you  '11 
let  them  both  know  you  're  aware  of  it." 

Satisfied  that  he  was  worthy  of  her  confidence,  she  told 
him  briefly  what  had  occurred. 

"  And  now  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  she  asked, 
smiling. 

"  Do  ?  I  '11  go  on  my  knees.  I  '11  grovel  at  his  feet. 
I  '11  ask  him  to  make  me  a  door-mat.  I  '11  do  any  mortal 
thing  Aline  tells  me." 

u  Well,  go  now  and  do  your  penance  and  be  happy," 
Connie  said,  holding  out  her  hand. 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  can  thank  you,  Mrs.  Deering," 
he  cried.  "  You  are  the  most  gracious  woman  that  ever 
lived ! " 

A  few  moments  later  an  impassioned  youth  was  speeding 
in  a  hansom  cab  to  Friary  Grove.  But  Connie,  with  the 
memory  of  his  clear-cut,  radiant  young  face  haunting  her, 
sighed.  Chance  decreed  that  the  very  moment  should 


Where  Love  Is 

bring  her  a  letter  from  Jimmie,  written  that  morning,  full 
of  his  wonder  and  gratitude.  She  sighed  again,  patheti- 
cally, foolishly,  unreasonably  feeling  left  out  in  the  cold. 

"  I  wonder  whether  it  would  do  me  good  to  cry,"  she 
said,  half  aloud.  But  the  footman  entering  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  the  carriage  which  was  to  take  her  to  her 
dressmaker  was  at  the  door,  settled  the  question.  She  had 
to  content  herself  with  sighs. 

Tony  Merewether  did  not  go  on  his  knees,  as  Aline  had 
ordained  ;  but  he  made  his  apology  in  so  frank  and  manly  a 
way  that  Jimmie  forgave  him  at  once.  Besides,  said  he, 
what  had  he  to  forgive  ? 

"  I  feel  like  Didymus,"  said  Tony. 

Jimmie  laughed  as  he  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder  and 
pushed  him  out  of  the  studio. 

"You  had  better  cultivate  the  feeling.  He  became  a 
saint  eventually.  Aline  will  help  to  make  you  one." 

If  plain  indication  of  another's  infirmities  can  tend  to 
qualify  him  for  canonisation,  Aline  certainly  justified 
Jimmie's  statement.  She  did  not  confer  her  pardon  so 
readily  on  the  doubting  disciple.  His  offence  had  been  too 
rank.  It  was  not  merely  a  question  of  his  saying  a  credo 
and  then  taking  her  into  his  arms.  She  exacted  much 
penance  before  she  permitted  this  blissful  consummation. 
He  had  to  woo  and  protest  and  humble  himself  exceed- 
ingly. But  when  she  had  reduced  him  to  a  proper  state  of 
penitence,  she  gave  him  plenary  absolution  and  yielded  to 
his  kiss,  as  she  had  been  yearning  to  do  since  the  beginning 
of  the  interview.  After  that  she  settled  down  to  her  infinite 
delight.  Nothing  was  lacking  in  the  new  rapturous  scheme 
of  existence.  The  glory  of  Jimmie  was  vindicated.  Tony 
had  come  back  to  her.  The  bars  to  their  marriage  had 


The  Land  of  Enchantment 

vanished.  Not  only  was  Tony  a  man  of  substance  with 
the  legacy  of  eight  thousand  pounds  that  had  been  left  him, 
and  therefore  able  to  support  as  many  wives  as  the  Grand 
Turk,  but  Jimmie  no  longer  had  to  be  provided  for.  The 
wonder  of  wonders  had  happened  ;  she  could  surrender  her 
precious  charge  with  a  free  conscience  and  a  heart  bursting 
with  gratitude. 

Thus  the  happiness  of  each  pair  of  lovers  caught  a  re- 
flection from  that  of  the  other,  and  its  colour  was  rendered 
ever  so  little  fictitious,  unreal.  The  light  of  spring  sunrise, 
exquisite  though  it  is,  invests  things  with  a  glamour  which 
the  light  of  noon  dispels.  The  spectacle  of  the  young 
romance  unfolding  itself  before  the  eyes  of  Jimmie  and 
Norma  completed  their  delicious  sense  of  the  idyllic  ;  but 
the  illusive  atmosphere  thus  created  caused  them  to  view 
their  own  romance  in  slightly  false  perspective.  Essentially 
it  was  a  drama  of  conflict  —  themselves  against  the  petti- 
nesses and  uglinesses  of  the  world;  apparently  it  was  a 
pastoral  among  spring  flowers. 

Another  cause  that  contributed  to  Norma's  unconcern 
for  the  future  was  her  exaggerated  sense  of  the  man's 
loftiness  of  soul.  Instead  of  viewing  him  as  a  lovable 
creature  capable  of  the  chivalrous  and  the  heroic  and 
afforded  by  a  happy  fate  an  opportunity  of  displaying  these 
qualities — for  the  opportunity  makes  the  hero  as  much 
as  it  does  the  thief — she  grovelled  whole-sexedly  before 
an  impossible  idol  imbued  with  impossible  divinity.  While 
knitting  silk  ties  and  devising  with  him  the  preparation  of 
foodstuffs  (which  she  did  not  realise  he  would  not  be  able 
to  afford)  she  was  conscious  of  a  grace  in  the  trifling,  all 
the  more  precious  because  of  these  little  earthly  things 
midway  between  the  empyrean  and  the  abvss  which  they 

319 


Where  Love  Is 

respectively  inhabited.  In  the  deeply  human  love  of  each 
was  a  touch  of  the  fantastic.  To  Jimmie  she  was  the 
Princess  of  Wonderland,  the  rare  Lady  of  Dreams;  to 
Norma  he  appeared  little  less  than  a  god. 
fr  She  was  talking  one  evening  with  Connie  Deering  in  a 
somewhat  exalted  strain  of  her  own  unworthiness  and 
Jimmie's  condescension,  when  the  little  lady  broke  into  an 
unwonted  expression  of  impatience. 

"  My  dear  child,  every  foolish  woman  is  a  valet  to  her 
hero.     You  would  like  to  clean  his  boots,  would  n't  you  ?  " 
P   "  My  dear  Connie,"  cried  Norma,  alarmed,  "  whatever  is 
the  matter  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  two  had  .better  get  married  as  quickly  as 
possible.  It  is  getting  on  one's  nerves." 

Norma  stiffened.     "  I  am  sorry  —  "  she  began. 

Connie  interrupted  her.  "  Don't  be  silly.  There 's 
nothing  for  you  to  be  sorry  about."  She  brightened  and 
laughed,  realising  the  construction  Norma  had  put  upon  her 
words.  "  I  am  only  advising  you  for  your  good.  I  had 
half  an  hour's  solitary  imprisonment  with  Theodore  Weever 
this  afternoon.  He  always  takes  it  out  of  me.  It 's  like 
having  a  bath  with  an  electric  eel.  He  called  this  after- 
noon to  get  news  of  you." 

"  Of  me  ? "  asked  Norma  serenely,  settling  herself  in 
the  depths  of  her  chair. 

"  He  is  like  an  eel,"  Connie  exclaimed  with  a  shiver. 
"  He 's  the  coldest-blooded  thing  I  Ve  ever  come  across. 
I  told  you  about  the  dinner  at  the  Carlton,  did  n't  I  ?  It 
appears  that  he  reckoned  on  my  doing  just  what  I  rushed 
off  to  do.  It  makes  me  so  angry  !  "  she  cried  with  femi- 
nine emphasis  on  the  last  word.  "  Of  course  he  did  n't 
tell  me  so  brutally  —  he  has  a  horrid  snake-like  method  o^ 

320 


The  Land  of  Enchantment 

insinuation.  He  had  counted  on  my  getting  at  the  truth 
which  he  had  guessed  and  so  stopping  the  marriage.  c  I  'm 
a  true  prophet,'  he  said.  1 1  knew  that  marriage  would 
never  come  off.' ' 

"  So  he  told  me,"  said  Norma.  u  Do  you  know,  there 
must  be  some  goodness  in  him  to  have  perceived  the  good- 
ness in  Jimmie." 

<l  I  believe  he 's  a  disembodied  spirit  without  either 
goodness  or  badness  —  a  sort  of  non-moral  monster." 
Connie  was  given  to  hyperbole  in  her  likes  and  dislikes. 
She  continued  her  tale.  He  had  come  to  ask  her  advice. 
Now  that  Miss  Hardacre  was  free,  did  Mrs.  Deering  think 
he  might  press  his  suit  with  advantage  ?  His  stay  in 
Europe  was  drawing  to  a  close.  He  would  like  to  take 
back  with  him  to  New  York  either  Miss  Hardacre  or  a 
definite  refusal. 

" l  You  certainly  cannot  take  back  Miss  Hardacre,'  I 
said,  c  because  she  is  going  to  marry  Jimmie  Padgate.'  I 
thought  this  would  annihilate  him.  But  do  you  think  he 
moved  a  muscle  ?  Not  he." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  asked  Norma,  lazily  amused. 

" '  This  is  getting  somewhat  monotonous,'  "  replied 
Connie. 

Norma  laughed.     "  Nothing  else  ?  " 

"  He  began  to  talk  about  theatres.  He  has  the  most 
disconcerting  way  of  changing  the  conversation.  But  on 
leaving  he  sent  his  congratulations  to  you,  and  said  that 
you  were  always  to  remember  that  you  were  the  wife 
specially  designed  for  him  by  Providence." 

"  You  dear  thing,"  said  Norma,  "  and  did  that  get  on 
your  nerves  ?  " 

"  Would  n't  it  get  on  yours  ?  " 
21  2I 


Where  Love  Is 

Norma  shook  her  head.  "  I  have  n't  any  nerves  for 
things  to  get  on.  People  don't  have  nerves  when  they  're 
happy." 

"  And  are  you  happy,  really,  really  happy  ?  " 

"  I  am  deliciously  happy,"  said  Norma. 

She  went  to  bed  laughing  at  the  discomfiture  of  Weever 
and  the  remoteness  of  him  and  of  the  days  last  summer 
when  she  first  met  him  among  the  Monzies'  disreputable 
crowd.  He  belonged  to  a  former  state  of  existence.  Jim- 
mie's  portrait,  which  had  been  put  for  two  or  three  reasons 
in  her  bedroom,  caught  her  attention.  She  looked  at  it 
with  a  dreamy  smile  for  a  long  time,  and  then  turned  to 
the  glass.  Made  curiously  happy  by  what  she  saw  there, 
she  kissed  her  fingers  to  the  portrait. 

"  He  is  the  better  prophet,"  she  said. 

But  Connie's  advice  as  to  the  desirability  of  a  speedy 
marriage  remained  in  her  mind.  Jimmie  with  character- 
istic diffidence  had  not  yet  suggested  definite  arrangements. 
She  was  gifted  with  so  much  insight  as  to  apprehend  the 
reasons  for  his  lack  of  initiative.  His  very  worship  of 
her,  his  overwhelming  sense  of  goddess-conferred  boon  in 
her  every  smile  and  condescension,  precluded  the  asking  of 
favours.  So  far  it  was  she  who  had  arranged  their  daily 
life.  It  was  she  who  had  established  the  custom  of  the 
studio  visits,  and  she  had  taken  off  her  hat  and  had  inau- 
gurated the  comedy  of  the  domestic  felicities  of  her  own 
accord.  She  treasured  this  worship  in  her  heart  as  a  price- 
less thing,  all  the  more  exquisite  because  it  lay  by  the  side 
of  the  knowledge  of  her  own  un worthiness.  The  sacrifice 
of  maidenly  modesty  in  proposing  instead  of  coyly  yielding 
was  at  once  a  delicious  penance  for  hypocritical  assumption 
of  superiority,  and  a  salve  to  her  pride  as  a  beautiful  and 

322 


The  Land  of  Enchantment 

desirable  woman.  It  was  with  a  glorious  sureness  of  rela- 
tion, therefore,  that  she  asked  him  the  next  day  if  he  had 
thought  of  a  date  for  their  marriage. 

"  There  is  no  reason  for  a  long  engagement  that  I  can 
see,"  she  added,  with  a  blush  which  she  felt,  and  was 
tremulously  happy  at  feeling. 

"  I  was  waiting  for  you  to  say,  dear,"  he  replied,  his  arm 
around  her.  "  I  dared  not  ask." 

She  laughed  the  deep  laugh  of  a  woman's  happiness. 

"  I  knew  you  would  say  that,"  she  murmured.  "  Let 
it  be  some  time  next  month." 


Chapter  XXVI 

EARTH  AGAIN 

ONE  day  Norma  received  a  polite  intimation  from 
her  bankers  that  her  account  was  overdrawn. 
This  had  happened  before;  but  on  previous 
occasions  she  had  obtained  from  her  father  an  advance  on 
her  allowance  and  the  unpleasant  void  at  the  bank  had  been 
filled.  Now  she  realised  with  dismay  that  the  allowance 
had  been  cut  off,  and  that  no  money  could  come  into  her 
possession  until  the  payment  of  the  half-yearly  dividend 
from  the  concern  in  which  her  small  private  fortune  was 
invested.  She  looked  in  her  purse  and  found  five  shillings. 
On  this  she  would  have  to  live  for  three  weeks.  Her 
money  was  in  the  hands  of  trustees,  wisely  tied  up  by  the 
worldly  aunt  from  whom  she  had  inherited  it,  so  that  she 
could  not  touch  the  capital.  While  she  was  contemplating 
the  absurdity  of  the  position,  the  maid  brought  up  a  parcel 
from  a  draper's  on  which  there  was  three  and  eleven  pence 
halfpenny  to  pay.  She  surrendered  four  of  her  shillings, 
and  disconsolately  regarded  the  miserable  one  that  remained. 
The  position  had  grown  even  more  preposterous.  She 
actually  needed  money.  She  had  not  even  the  amount  of 
a  cab-fare  to  Friary  Grove.  She  would  not  have  it  for 
three  weeks. 

Preposterous  or  not,  the  fact  was  plain,  and  demanded 
serious  consideration.     She  would  have  to   borrow.     The 


Earth  Again 

repayment  of  the  loan  and  the  overdraft  would  reduce  the 
half-yearly  dividend.  A  goodly  part  of  the  remainder 
would  be  required  to  meet  an  outstanding  milliners'  bill, 
not  included  in  the  bridal  trousseau  for  which  her  father  was 
to  pay.  The  sum  in  simple  arithmetic  frightened  her. 

"  I  am  poverty-stricken,"  she  said  to  Connie,  to  whom 
she  confided  her  difficulties. 

Connie  blotted  the  cheque  that  was  to  provide  for  imme- 
diate wants,  and  laughed  sympathetically. 

"  You  '11  have  to  learn  to  be  economical,  dear.  I  be- 
lieve it 's  quite  easy." 

"  You  mean  I  must  go  in  omnibuses  and  things  ?  "  said 
Norma,  vaguely. 

"  And  not  order  so  many  hats  and  gowns." 

u  I  see,"  said  Norma,  folding  up  the  cheque. 

With  money  again  in  her  pocket,  she  felt  lighter  of 
heart,  but  she  knew  that  she  had  stepped  for  a  moment  out 
of  fairyland  into  the  grey  world  of  reality.  The  first  ex- 
perience was  unpleasant.  It  left  a  haunting  dread  which 
made  her  cling  closer  to  Jimmie  in  the  embrace  of  their 
next  meeting.  It  was  a  relief  to  get  back  into  the  Garden 
of  Enchantment  and  leave  sordid  things  outside.  Wilfully 
she  kept  the  conversation  from  serious  discussion  of  their 
marriage. 

When  next  she  had  occasion  to  go  to  the  studio,  she  re- 
membered the  necessity  of  economy,  and  took  the  St.  John's 
Wood  omnibus.  As  a  general  rule  the  travellers  between 
Baker  Street  station  and  the  Swiss  Cottage  are  of  a  superior 
class,  being  mostly  the  well-to-do  residents  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood and  their  visitors  ;  but,  by  an  unlucky  chance,  this 
particular  omnibus  was  crowded,  and  Norma  found  herself 
wedged  between  a  labouring  man  redolent  of  stale  beer 

325 


Where  Love  Is 

and  bad  tobacco,  and  a  fat  Jewish  lady  highly  flavoured 
with  musk.  A  youth  getting  out  awkwardly  knocked  her 
hat  awry  with  his  elbow.  It  began  to  rain  —  a  smart 
April  shower.  The  wet  umbrella  of  a  new  arrival  dripped 
on  her  dress  while  he  stood  waiting  for  a  place  to  be  made 
for  him  opposite.  The  omnibus  stopped  at  a  shelterless 
corner,  the  nearest  point  to  Friary  Grove.  She  descended 
to  pitiless  rain  and  streaming  pavements  and  a  five  minutes' 
walk,  for  all  of  which  her  umbrella  and  shoes  were  inade- 
quate. She  vowed  miserably  a  life-long  detestation  of 
omnibuses.  She  would  never  enter  one  again.  Cabs  were 
the  only  possible  conveyances  for  people  who  could  not 
afford  to  keep  their  carriage.  She  fought  down  the  dread 
that  she  might  not  be  able  to  afford  cabs.  The  Almighty, 
who  had  obviously  intended  her  to  drive  in  cabs,  would 
certainly  see  that  His  intentions  were  carried  out. 

She  arrived  at  the  studio,  wet,  bedraggled,  and  angry  ;  but 
Jimmie's  exaggerated  concern  disarmed  her.  It  could  not 
have  been  less  had  she  wandered  for  miles  and  been 
drenched  to  the  skin  and  chilled  to  the  bone.  He  sent 
Aline  to  fetch  her  daintiest  slippers  to  replace  the  damp 
shoes,  established  the  storm-driven  sufferer  in  the  big  leath- 
ern armchair  with  cushions  at  her  back  and  hassocks  at  her 
feet,  made  a  roaring  lire  and  insisted  on  her  swallowing 
cherry  brandy,  a  bottle  of  which  he  kept  in  the  house  in 
case  of  illness.  In  the  unwonted  luxury  of  being  loved 
and  petted  and  foolishly  fussed  over,  Norma  again  forgot 
her  troubles.  Jimmie  consoled  the  specific  grievance  by 
saying  magniloquently  that  omnibuses  were  the  engines  of 
the  devil  and  vehicles  of  the  wrath  to  come.  With  a 
drugged  economic  conscience  she  went  home  in  a  cab. 
But  the  conscience  awoke  later,  somewhat  suffering,  and 

326 


Earth  Again 

she  recognised  that  her  exasperated  vow  had  been  vain. 
Jimmie  was  a  poor  man.  She  recalled  to  mind  his  words 
on  the  night  of  their  engagement,  and  apprehended  their 
significance.  The  trivial  incident  of  the  omnibus  was  a 
key.  The  abandonment  of  cabs  and  carriages  meant  the 
surrender  of  countless  luxuries  that  went  therewith.  Her 
own  two  hundred  a  year  would  not  greatly  raise  the  scale  of 
living.  She  was  to  be  a  poor  man's  wife  ;  would  have  to 
wear  cheap  dresses,  eat  plain  food,  keep  household  books  in 
which  pennies  were  accounted  for  ;  hers  would  be  the  hum- 
drum existence  of  the  less  prosperous  middle  class.  The 
first  pang  of  doubt  frightened  her  for  a  while  and  left  her 
ashamed.  Noble  revolt  followed.  Had  she  not  renounced 
the  pomps  and  vanities  of  a  world  which  she  scorned  ? 
Had  not  this  wonderful  baptism  of  love  brought  New 
Birth  ?  She  had  been  reborn,  a  braver,  purer  woman  ;  she 
had  been  initiated  into  life's  deeper  mysteries ;  her  soul  had 
been  filled  with  joy.  Of  what  count  were  externals  ? 

The  next  evening  Connie  Deering  gave  a  small  dinner- 
party in  honour  of  the  two  engagements.  Old  Colonel 
Pawley,  charged  under  pain  of  her  perpetual  displeasure  not 
to  reveal  the  secret  of  Norma's  whereabouts,  was  invited  to 
balance  the  sexes.  He  was  delighted  to  hear  of  Norma's 
romantic  marriage. 

"  I  can  still  present  the  fan,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  soft 
palms  together;  "but  I'm  afraid  I  shall  have  to  write  a 
fresh  set  of  verses." 

*'  You  had  better  give  Norma  a  cookery-book,"  laughed 
Connie. 

"  I  have  a  beautiful  one  of  my  own  in  manuscript  which 
no  publisher  will  take  up,"  sighed  Colonel  Pawley. 

Norma,  who  had  been  wont  to  speak  with  drastic  con- 
327 


Where  Love  Is 

tempt  of  the  amiable  old  warrior,  welcomed  him  so  cordially 
that  he  was  confused.  He  was  not  accustomed  to  ex- 
uberant demonstrations  of  friendship  from  the  beautiful 
Miss  Hardacre.  At  dinner,  sitting  next  her,  he  enjoyed 
himself  enormously.  Instead  of  freezing  his  geniality  with 
sarcastic  remarks,  she  lured  him  on  to  the  gossip  in  which 
his  heart  delighted.  When  Connie  rallied  her,  later,  on 
her  flirtation  with  the  old  man,  she  laughed. 

"  Remember  I  've  been  a  prisoner  here.  He  's  one  of 
the  familiar  faces  from  outside." 

Although  jestingly,  she  had  spoken  with  her  usual  frank- 
ness, and  her  confession  was  more  deeply  significant  than 
she  was  aware  at  the  time.  She  had  welcomed  Colonel 
Pawley  not  for  what  he  was,  but  for  what  he  represented. 
As  soon  as  she  was  alone  she  realised  the  moral  lapse,  and 
rebuked  herself  severely.  She  was  sentimental  enough  to 
hang  by  a  ribbon  around  her  neck  the  simple  engagement 
ring  which  Jimmie  had  given  her,  and  to  sleep  with  it  as  a 
talisman  against  evil  thoughts. 

She  spent  the  following  evening  at  the  studio,  heroically 
enduring  the  discomforts  of  the  detested  omnibus.  When 
she  descended  she  drew  a  breath  of  relief,  but  felt  the  glow 
that  comes  from  virtuous  achievement.  Jimmie  was  in- 
formed of  this  practice  in  the  art  of  economy.  He  regarded 
her  wistfully.  There  were  times  when  he  too  fought  with 
doubts,  —  not  of  her  loyalty,  but  of  his  own  honesty  in 
bringing  her  down  into  his  humble  sphere.  Even  now, 
accustomed  as  he  was  to  the  adored  sight  of  her  there,  he 
could  not  but  note  the  contrast  between  herself  and  her 
surroundings.  She  brought  with  her  in  every  detail  of  her 
person,  in  every  detail  of  her  dress,  in  every  detail  of 
lier  manner,  an  atmosphere  of  a  dainty,  luxurious  life 

328 


Earth  Again 

pathetically  incongruous  with  the  shabby  little  house.  He 
had  not  even  the  wherewithal  to  call  in  decorators  and 
upholsterers  and  make  the  little  house  less  shabby.  So 
when  she  spoke  of  practising  economy,  he  looked  at  her 
wistfully. 

"  Your  eyes  are  open,  dear,  are  n't  they  ?  "  he  said. 
"  You  really  do  realise  what  a  sacrifice  you  are  making  in 
marrying  me  ?  " 

"  By  not  marrying  you,"  she  replied,  "  I  should  have 
gained  the  world  and  lost  my  own  soul.  Now  I  am  doing 
the  reverse." 

He  kissed  her  finger-tips  lover-wise.  "  I  am  afraid  I 
must  be  the  devil's  advocate,  and  say  that  the  loss  and 
gain  need  not  be  so  absolutely  differentiated.  I  want  you 
to  be  happy.  My  God  !  I  want  you  to  be  happy,"  he 
burst  out  with  sudden  passion,  "  and  if  you  found  that 
things  were  infinitely  worse  than  what  you  had  expected, 
that  you  had  married  me  in  awful  ignorance  —  " 

She  covered  his  lips  with  the  palm  of  her  hand. 

"  Don't  go  on.  You  pain  me.  You  make  me  despise 
myself.  I  have  counted  the  cost,  such  as  it  is.  Did  I 
not  tell  you  from  the  first  that  I  would  go  with  you  in 
rags  and  barefoot  through  the  world  ?  Could  woman  say 
more  ?  Don't  you  believe  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  believe  you,"  he  replied,  bowing  his  head. 
"  You  are  a  great-hearted  woman." 

She  unfastened  her  hat,  skewered  it  through  with  the 
pins,  and  gave  it  him  to  put  down. 

"  I  remember  my  Solomon,"  she  said,  trying  to  laugh 
lightly,  for  there  had  been  a  faint  but  disconcerting  sense 
of  effort  in  her  protestation.  " c  Better  is  a  dinner  of 
herbs  where  love  is,  than  a  stalled  ox  and  hatred  there- 

J2Q 


Where  Love  Is 

with."  Besides,  you  forget  another  important  matter.  I 
am  now  a  homeless,  penniless  outcast.  I  am  not  sacri- 
ficing anything.  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  offer  to  take 
me  in  and  shelter  me." 

"  These  are  sophistries,"  said  Jimmie,  with  a  laugh, 
"  You  gave  'up  all  on  my  account." 

"  But  I  am  really  penniless,"  she  said,  ignoring  his 
argument.  "  AncW  to  son  pittore.  I  too  have  felt  the 
pinch  of  poverty." 

«  You  ?  " 

She  revealed  her  financial  position — the  overdraft  at  the 
bank,  the  shilling  between  herself  and  starvation.  Were 
it  not  for  Connie,  she  would  have  to  sing  in  the  streets. 
She  alluded  thoughtlessly,  with  her  class's  notions  as  to 
the  value  of  money,  to  her  "  miserable  two  hundred  a  year." 

"  Two  hundred  a  year  !  "  cried  Jimmie.  "  Why,  that 's 
a  fortune  !  " 

His  tone  struck  a  sudden  chill  through  her.  He  gen- 
uinely regarded  the  paltry  sum  as  untold  riches.  She 
struggled  desperately  down  to  his  point  of  view. 

"  Perhaps  it  may  come  in  useful  for  us,"  she  said  lamely. 

"  I  should  think  it  will !  Why  did  n't  you  tell  me 
before  ?  " 

"  Have  you  never  thought  I  might  have  a  little  of  my 
own  ?  "  she  asked  with  a  touch  of  her  old  hardness. 

"  No,"  said  Jimmie.     "  Of  course  not." 

"  I  don't  see  any  4  of  course '  in  the  matter.  The 
ordinary  man  would  have  speculated  —  it  would  have  been 
natural — almost  common-sense." 

Jimmie  threw  up  his  hands  deprecatingly. 

41 1  have  been  too  much  dazzled  by  the  glorious  gift  of 
yourself  to  think  of  anything  else  you  might  bring.  I  ana 

33° 


Earth  Again 

an  impossible  creature,  as  you  will  find  out.  I  ought  to 
have  considered  the  practical  side." 

"  Oh  !  I  am  very  glad  you  did  n't !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Heaven  forbid  you  should  have  the  mercenary  ideas  of 
the  average  man.  It  is  beautiful  to  have  thought  of  me 
only."  I 

"  I  am  afraid  I  was  thinking  of  myself,  my  dear,"  said 
he.  "  I  must  get  out  of  the  way  of  it,  and  think  of  the 
two  of  us.  Now  let  us  be  severely  business-like.  You 
have  taken  a  load  off  my  mind.  There  are  a  thousand 
things  you  can  surround  yourself  with  that  I  imagined  you 
would  lack."  He  took  her  two  hands  and  swung  them 
backwards  and  forwards.  "  Now  I  shan't  regard  myself 
as  such  a  criminal  in  asking  you  to  marry  me." 

"  Do  you  think  two  hundred  a  year  a  fortune,  Jimmie  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"To  the  Rothschilds  and  Vanderbilts  perhaps  not — but 
everything  is  relative." 

"  Everything  ?  " 

Her  heart  spoke  suddenly,  demanding  relief.  Their 
eyes  met. 

"  No,  dear,"  he  said.     "  One  thing  at  least  is  absolute." 

An  interlude  of  conviction  succeeded  doubt.  She  felt 
that  she  had  never  loved  him  so  much  as  at  that  moment. 
It  was  more  with  the  quickly  lit  passion  of  the  awakened 
woman  than  with  the  ardour  of  a  girl  that  she  clasped 
her  hands  round  his  head  and  drew  it  down  to  their  kiss. 
She  had  an  awful  need  of  the  assurance  of  the  absolute. 

It  nerved  her  to  face  a  discussion  on  ways  and  means 
with  Aline,  whom  Jimmie  at  her  request  summoned  from 
demure  sewing  in  her  little  drawing-room. 

"  You  are  right,"  she  had  said,  referring  to  his  former 


Where  Love  Is 

remark.  "We  ought  to  be  severely  business-like.  I  must 
begin  to  learn  things.  You  don't  know  how  hopelessly 
Ignorant  I  am." 

Aline  came  down  to  give  the  first  lesson  in  elementary 
housekeeping.  She  brought  with  her  a  pile  of  little  black 
books  which  she  spread  out  at  the  end  of  the  long  table. 
The  two  girls  sat  side  by  side.  Jimmie  hovered  about 
them  for  a  while,  but  was  soon  dismissed  by  Aline  to  a 
distant  part  of  the  studio,  where,  having  nothing  where- 
with to  occupy  himself,  he  proceeded  to  make  a  charcoal 
sketch  of  the  two  intent  faces. 

Aline,  proud  at  being  able  to  display  her  housewifely 
knowledge  before  appreciative  eyes,  opened  her  books,  and 
expounded  them  with  a  charming  business  air.  These 
were  the  receipts  for  the  last  twelve  months  ;  these  the 
general  disbursements.  They  were  balanced  to  a  half- 
penny. 

"  Of  course  anything  I  can't  account  for,  I  put  down  to 
the  item  c  Jimmie,'  "  she  said  naively.  "  He  will  go  to 
the  money-drawer  and  help  himself  without  letting  me 
know.  Is  n't  it  tiresome  of  him  ?  " 

Norma  smiled  absently,  wrinkling  her  brows  over  the 
unfamiliar  figures.  She  had  no  grasp  of  the  relation  the 
amounts  of  the  various  items  bore  to  one  another,  but 
they  all  seemed  exceedingly  small. 

"  I  suppose  it 's  necessary  to  make  up  this  annual 
balance  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Of  course.  Otherwise  you  would  n't  know  how 
much  you  could  apportion  to  each  item.  Jimmie  says 
it 's  nonsense  to  keep  books  ;  but  if  you  listen  to  Jimmie, 
you  '11  have  the  brokers  in  in  a  month." 

«  Brokers  ?  " 

332 


Earth  Again 

Aline  laughed  at  her  perplexed  look.  "  Yes,  to  seize 
the  furniture  in  payment  of  debt." 

The  main  financial  facts  having  been  stated,  Aline  came 
to  detail.  These  were  the  weekly  books  from  the  various 
tradesmen.  She  showed  a  typical  week's  expenditure. 

"  What  about  the  fishmonger  ?  "  asked  Norma,  noting 
an  obvious  omission. 

"  Fish  is  too  expensive  to  have  regularly,"  Aline  ex- 
plained, "  and  so  I  don't  have  an  account.  When  I  buy 
any,  I  pay  for  it  at  once,  in  the  shop." 

"  When  you  buy  it  ?  " 

"Why,  yes.  You'll  find  it  much  better  to  go  and 
choose  things  for  yourself  than  let  them  call  for  orders. 
Then  you  can  get  exactly  what  you  want,  instead  of  what 
suits  the  tradesman's  convenience.  You  see,  I  go  to  the 
butcher  and  look  round,  and  say  '  I  want  a  piece  of  that 
joint,'  and  of  course  he  does  as  he's  told.  It  seems  horrid 
to  any  one  not  accustomed  to  it  to  go  into  a  butcher's 
shop,  I  know;  but  really  it's  not  unpleasant,  and  it's 
quite  amusing." 

"  But  why  should  n't  your  housekeeper  do  the  mar- 
keting ? " 

"  Oh,  she  does  sometimes,"  Aline  admitted  ;  "but  Hannah 
is  n't  a  good  buyer.  She  can't  judge  meat  and  things,  you 
know,  and  she  is  apt  to  be  wasteful  over  vegetables." 

"  You  don't  bring  the — the  meat  and  things  —  home 
with  you  in  a  basket,  do  you  ? "  asked  Norma,  with  a 
nervous  laugh. 

Jimmie,  interested  in  his  sketch,  had  not  listened  to  the 
conversation,  which  had  been  carried  on  in  a  low  tone. 
The  last  words,  however,  pitched  higher,  caught  his  ear. 
He  jumped  to  his  feet. 

333 


Where  Love  Is 

"  Norma  carry  home  meat  in  a  basket !  Good  God  ! 
What  on  earth  has  the  child  been  telling  you  ?  " 

"I  never  said  anything  of  the  kind,  Jimmie,"  cried 
Aline,  indignantly.  "You  needn't  bring  home  anything 
unless  you  like;  our  tradesmen  are  most  obliging." 

Norma  pushed  back  her  chair  from  the  table  and  rose 
and  again  laughed  nervously. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can't  learn  all  the  science  of  domestic 
economy  in  one  lesson.  I  must  do  it  by  degrees."  She 
passed  her  hand  across  her  forehead.  "  I  'm  not  used  to 
figures,  you  see." 

Jimmie  looked  reproachfully  at  Aline.  "  Those  horrid 
little  black  books  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  They  are  enough  to 
give  any  one  a  headache.  For  heaven's  sake,  have  nothing 
to  do  with  them,  dear." 

"  But  the  brokers  will  come  in,"  said  Norma,  with  an 
uncertain  catch  in  her  voice. 

"They  are  Aline's  pet  hobgoblins,"  laughed  Jimmie. 
"  My  dear  child,"  pointing  to  the  books,  "  please  take  those 
depressing  records  of  wasted  hours  away." 

When  they  were  alone,  he  said  to  Norma  very  tenderly, 
"  I  am  afraid  my  little  girl  has  frightened  you." 

She  started  at  the  keenness  of  his  perception  and 
flushed. 

"No  —  not  frightened." 

"  She  is  so  proud  of  the  way  she  runs  her  little  kingdom 
here,"  he  said ;  "  so  proud  to  show  you  how  it  is  done. 
You  must  forgive  her.  She  is  only  a  child,  my  dearest, 
and  forgets  that  these  household  delights  of  hers  may  come  as 
shocks  to  you.  I  shall  not  allow  you  to  have  these  worries 
that  she  loves  to  concern  her  head  about." 

"  Then  who  will  have  them  ?  "  she  asked,  with  her  hand 

334 


Earth  Again 

on  the  lappel  of  his  jacket.  "  You  ?  That  would  be 
absurd.  If  I  am  your  wife,  I  must  keep  your  house." 

"My  dear,"  said  Jimmie,  kissing  her,  "if  we  love  each 
other,  there  will  be  no  possibility  of  worries.  I  believe  in 
God  in  a  sort  of  way,  and  He  has  not  given  you  to  me  to 
curse  and  wither  your  life." 

"You  could  only  bless  and  sanctify  it,"  she  murmured. 

"  Not  I,  dear  ;  but  our  love." 

Soothed,  she  raised  a  smiling  face. 

"  But  still,  I  '11  have  to  keep  house.  Do  you  think  I 
would  let  you  go  to  the  butcher's  ?  What  would  Aline 
say  if  you  made  such  a  proposal  ? " 

"  She  would  peremptorily  forbid  him  to  take  my  orders," 
he  replied,  laughing. 

"  I  am  sure  I  should,"  she  said. 

It  was  growing  late.  She  glanced  at  the  wheezy  tilted 
old  Dutch  clock  in  the  corner,  and  spoke  of  departure. 
She  reflected  for  a  moment  on  the  means  of  home-getting. 
To  her  lowered  spirits  the  omnibus  loomed  like  a  lumber- 
ing torture-chamber.  The  consolation  of  a  cab  seemed 
cowardice.  An  inspiration  occurred  to  her.  She  would 
walk ;  perhaps  he  would  accompany  her  to  Bryanston 
Square.  He  was  enraptured  at  the  suggestion.  But  could 
she  manage  the  distance  ? 

"I  should  like  to  try.  I  am  a  good  walker  —  and  when 
we  are  outside,"  she  added  softly,  "we  can  talk  a  little  of 
other  matters." 

It  was  a  mild  spring  night,  and  the  quiet  stars  shone  be- 
nignantly  upon  them  as  they  walked  arm  in  arm,  and  talked 
of  "  other  matters."  As  she  had  needed  a  little  while  be- 
fore the  assurance  of  the  absolute,  so  now  she  craved  the 
spirituality  of  the  man  himself,  the  inner  light  of  faith  in 

335 


Where  Love  Is 

the  world's  beauty,  the  sweetness,  the  courage  —  all  that 
indefinable  something  in  him  which  raised  him,  and  could 
alone  raise  her,  above  the  terrifying  things  of  earth.  She 
clung  to  his  arm  in  a  pathos  of  yearning  for  him  to  lead 
her  upward  and  teach  her  the  things  of  the  spirit.  Only 
thus  lay  her  salvation. 

He,  clean,  simple  soul,  lost  in  the  splendour  of  their 
love,  expounding,  as  it  chanced,  his  guileless  philosophy  of 
life  and  his  somewhat  childishly  pagan  religious  convic- 
tions, was  far  from  suspecting  the  battle  into  which  he  was 
being  called  to  champion  the  side  of  righteousness.  He 
went  to  sleep  that  night  the  most  blissfully  happy  of  men. 
Norma  lay  awake,  a  miserable  woman. 


336 


Chapter  XXVII 
A   DINNER   OF   HERBS 

SHE  loved  him.  Of  that  there  was  no  doubt.  To 
her  he  was  the  man  of  men.  The  half  angel,  half 
fool  of  her  original  conception  had  melted  into  an 
heroic  figure  capable  of  infinite  tendernesses.  The  linger- 
ing barbaric  woman  in  her  thrilled  at  the  memory  of  him 
contemptuously  facing  death  before  the  madman's  revolver. 
Her  higher  nature  was  awed  at  the  perfect  heroism  of  his 
sacrifice.  She  knelt  at  his  feet,  recognising  the  loftier  soul. 
Sex  was  stirred  to  the  depths  when  his  arms  were  about 
her  and  his  kiss  was  on  her  lips.  In  lighter  relations  he 
was  the  perfect  companion.  For  all  her  vacillation,  let 
that  be  remembered  :  she  loved  him.  All  of  her  that  was 
worth  the  giving  he  had  in  its  plenitude. 

The  days  which  followed  her  initiation  into  domestic 
economy  were  days  of  alternating  fear  and  shame  and 
scornful  resolution.  She  lost  grip  of  herself.  The  proud 
beauty  curving  a  contumelious  lip  at  the  puppet  show  of 
life  was  a  creature  of  the  past.  Set  the  proudest  and  most 
self-sufficing  of  women  naked  in  what  assembly  you  please, 
and  she  will  crouch,  helpless,  paralysed,  in  the  furthest 
corner.  Some  such  denudation  of  the  moral  woman  had 
occurred  in  the  case  of  Norma  Hardacre.  The  old  gar- 
ments were  stripped  from  her.  She  was  bewildered,  terrified, 
no  longer  endowed  with  personality. 
22  337 


Where  Love  Is 

• 

Sometimes  despising  herself  and  resolved  to  perform  her 
manifest  duty,  she  sought  other  lessons  from  Aline.  They 
ended  invariably  in  dismay.  Once  she  learned  that  Jimmie 
had  never  had  a  banking  account.  The  money  was  kept 
in  a  drawer  of  which  Jimmie  and  Aline  had  each  a  key. 
On  occasions  the  drawer  had  been  empty.  Another  lesson 
taught  her  that  certain  shops  in  the  neighbourhood  were  to 
be  avoided  as  being  too  expensive ;  that  cream  was  regarded 
as  a  luxury,  and  asparagus  as  an  impossible  extravagance. 
Every  new  fact  in  the  economy  of  a  poor  household  caused 
her  to  shiver  with  apprehension.  All  was  so  trivial,  so 
contemptibly  unimportant,  and  yet  it  grew  to  be  a  sordid 
barrier  baffling  her  love.  She  loathed  the  base  weakness 
of  her  nature.  It  was  degrading  to  feel  such  repulsion. 

One  evening  Connie  Deering  was  going  to  a  Foreign 
Office  reception,  and  came  down  an  enchanting  vision  in 
a  new  gown  from  Paquin  and  exhibited  herself  to  Norma. 

u  I  think  it 's  rather  a  success.      Don't  you  ?  " 

Norma  assented  somewhat  listlessly,  but  to  please  her 
friend  inspected  the  creation  and  listened  to  her  chatter. 
She  was  feeling  lonely  and  dispirited.  At  Aline's  entreaty 
she  had  persuaded  Jimmie  to  go  with  Tony  Merewether 
to  the  Langham  Sketch  Club,  thus  showing  himself,  for 
the  first  time  since  the  scandal,  among  his  old  associates. 
For  her  altruism  she  paid  the  penalty  of  a  dull  evening. 
Their  visits  to  each  other  were  her  sole  occupation  now, 
all  that  was  left  in  life  to  interest  her.  In  moments  of 
solitude  she  began  to  feel  the  appalling  narrowness  of  the 
circle  in  which  she  was  caged.  Reading  tired  instead  of 
refreshing  her.  She  had  been  accustomed  to  men  and 
women  rather  than  to  books,  to  the  sight  of  many  faces, 
to  the  constant  change  of  scene.  When  she  speculated 


A  Dinner  of  Herbs 

on  employment  for  future  solitary  hours,  she  thought  rue" 
fully  of  recuffing  shirts. 

Connie  apologised  for  leaving  her,  hoped  she  would 
manage  to  amuse  herself.  Norma,  who  had  made  strenu- 
ous efforts  to  hide  the  traces  of  tumult,  returned  a  smiling 
answer.  Connie,  quite  deceived,  put  an  arm  round  her 
waist  and  said  suddenly  in  her  bright,  teasing  way  : 

"  Now  don't  you  wish  you  were  coming  too  ?  " 

Norma,  staggered  at  the  point-blank  question,  was 
mistress  enough  of  herself  to  observe  the  decencies  of  reply, 
but  when  Connie  had  gone,  she  sat  down  on  the  sofa  and 
stared  in  front  of  her.  She  did  wish  she  were  going  with 
Connie.  She  had  been  wishing  vaguely,  half-consciously 
all  the  evening.  Now  the  wish  was  the  pain  of  craving. 
It  came  upon  her  like  the  craving  of  the  alcoholic  subject 
for  drink  —  this  sudden  longing  for  the  glitter,  the  excite- 
ment, the  whirl  of  the  life  she  had  renounced.  Her  in- 
dictment of  it  seemed  unreal,  the  confused  memory  of  a 
brain-sick  mood.  It  was  her  world.  She  had  not  cut 
herself  free.  All  the  fibres  of  her  body  seemed  to  be  rooted 
in  it,  and  she  was  being  drawn  thither  by  irresistible 
desire.  The  many,  many  people,  the  diamonds,  the  bril- 
liance, the  flattery,  the  envy,  the  very  atmosphere » heavy 
with  many  perfumes  —  she  saw  and  felt  it  all ;  panted  for 
it,  yearned  for  it.  That  never,  never  again  would  she  take 
up  her  birthright  was  impossible.  That  she  should  stand 
forevermore  in  the  humble  street  outside  the  gates  of  that 
dazzling,  wonderful,  kaleidoscopic  world  was  unthinkable. 

She  remembered  her  talk  with  Morland  at  the  Duchess 
of  Wiltshire's  reception  at  the  end  of  the  last  season,  her 
shiver  at  the  idea  of  a  life  of  poverty ;  was  it  a  premoni- 
tion ?  She  remembered  the  blessed  sense  of  security  when 

339 


Where  Love  Is 

she  had  looked  round  the  splendid  scene  and  felt  that  she 
and  it  were  indissoluble  parts  of  the  same  scheme  of  things. 
A  crust  and  heel  of  cheese  as  Jimmie's  wife  had  crossed 
her  mind  then  as  a  grotesque  fantasy ;  the  air  of  that  bril- 
liant gathering  was  the  breath  of  her  being. 

But  now  the  grotesque  fancy  was  to  be  the  reality  ;  the 
other  was  to  become  the  shadow  of  a  dream.  No  yearn- 
ing or  panting  could  restore  it.  The  impossible  was  the 
inevitable.  The  unthinkable  was  the  commonplace.  She 
had  made  her  choice  deliberately,  irrevocably.  She  had 
lost  the  whole  world  to  gain  her  own  soul.  In  the  despair 
of  her  mood  she  questioned  the  worth  of  the  sacrifice.  The 
finality  of  the  choice  oppressed  her.  If  at  this  eleventh 
hour  she  could  still  have  the  opportunity  of  the  heroic  — 
if  still  the  gates  of  the  world  were  open  to  her,  she  would 
have  had  a  stimulus  to  continued  nobility.  The  world  and 
the  passionate  love  for  the  perfect  man — which  would  she 
choose  ?  Her  exaltation  would  still  have  swept  her  to  the 
greater  choice.  Of  this  she  was  desperately  aware.  But 
the  gates  were  shut.  She  had  already  chosen.  The  heroic 
moment  had  gone.  The  acceptance  of  conditions  was  now 
mere  uninspired  duty.  She  gave  way  to  unreason. 

"O  God!  Why  cannot  I  have  both  —  my  own  love 
and  my  own  life  ?  " 

The  tears  she  shed  calmed  her. 

The  next  day  she  felt  ill  from  the  strain,  paying  the 
highly  bred  woman's  penalty  of  nervous  break-down. 
Connie  Deering  noted  the  circles  beneath  her  eyes  and 
the  pinched  nostrils.  Norma  casually  mentioned  a  night's 
neuralgia.  It  would  pass  off  during  the  day.  She  refused 
to  be  doctored.  She  would  pay  a  visit  to  Jimmie  before 
lunch.  The  fresh  air  would  do  her  good. 

340 


A  Dinner  of  Herbs 

u  The  fresh  air  and  Jimmie,"  laughed  her  friend.  "  You 
are  the  most  beautifully  in  love  young  woman  I  have  ever 
met." 

Norma  started  on  her  visit,  v/alking  fast.  At  Baker 
Street  station  it  began  to  rain.  She  took  the  penitential 
omnibus ;  but  her  thoughts  were  too  anxious  to  concern 
themselves  with  its  discomforts.  Besides,  it  was  almost 
empty.  The  night  had  brought  counsel.  She  would  go 
to  Jimmie  and  be  her  true  self,  frank  and  unsparing.  With 
a  touch  of  her  old  scorn  she  had  resolved  to  confess  unre- 
servedly all  the  meanness  and  cowardice  of  which  she  had  of 
late  been  guilty.  She  would  bare  to  him  the  soon  spotted 
soul  and  crave  his  cleansing.  He  would  understand, 
pardon,  and  purify.  Perhaps,  when  he  knew  all,  he  would 
be  able  to  devise  some  new  scheme  of  existence.  At  any 
rate,  she  would  no  longer  receive  his  kisses  with  a  lie  in 
her  heart.  She  loved  him  too  ardently.  He  should  know 
what  she  was,  what  were  her  needs,  her  limitations.  The 
meeting  would  be  a  crisis  in  their  lives.  Out  of  it  would 
come  reconstruction  on  some  unshakable  basis.  Up  to  a 
certain  point  she  reasoned ;  beyond  it,  the  pathetic  un- 
reason of  a  woman  drifted  rudderless. 

It  had  stopped  raining  when  she  left  the  omnibus  and 
started  on  the  short  walk  from  the  corner  to  Friary  Grove. 
At  the  familiar  gate  her  heart  already  seemed  lighter;  she 
opened  it,  mounted  the  front  steps,  and  rang.  The  middle- 
aged  servant,  minus  cap  and  with  thin  untidy  hair,  in  a 
soiled  print  dress,  her  sleeves  rolled  up  to  the  elbow  ex- 
posing red  coarse  arms,  was  the  first  shock  to  Norma 
when  the  door  opened. 

"  Both  the  Master  and  Miss  Aline  are  out,  Miss," 
said  Hannah,  with  a  good-natured  smile.  "  He  has  gone 


Where  Love  Is 

into  town  on  business,  and  Miss  Aline  went  out  2.  little 
while  ago  with  her  young  man.  But  they  '11  be  back  for 
lunch.  Won't  you  come  in  and  wait,  Miss  ? " 

Norma,  vaguely  resenting  the  familiar  address  of  the  ser- 
vant and  her  slatternly  appearance,  hesitated  for  a  moment 
before  deciding  to  enter.  Hannah  showed  her  into  the 
drawing-room  and  retired.  It  was  a  small  dark  room 
looking  on  to  the  back.  Part  of  it  had  been  cut  off  when 
the  house  had  been  altered,  so  as  to  construct  the  studio 
staircase,  which  contained  one  of  the  original  windows. 
Norma  felt  strangely  ill  at  ease  in  the  room.  The  prim, 
cheap  furniture,  the  threadbare  carpet,  the  flimsy  girlish 
contrivances  at  decoration,  gave  the  place  an  air  of  shabby 
gentility.  The  gilt  mirror  was  starred  with  spots  and  had 
a  crack  across  the  corner.  Some  of  Jimmie's  socks  and 
underwear  lay  on  the  table  for  mending.  They  were  much 
darned,  and  fresh  holes  could  not  fail  to  meet  the  eye  that 
rested  but  momentarily  on  the  pile.  To  mend  these 
would  in  the  future  be  her  duty.  She  took  up  an  under- 
vest  shrinkingly  and  shook  it  out;  then  folded  it  again  and 
closed  her  eyes.  .  .  .  She  could  not  wait  there :  the  gloom 
depressed  her.  The  studio  would  be  brighter  and  more 
familiar.  She  went  downstairs.  Nothing  in  the  room  she 
knew  so  well  was  changed,  yet  it  seemed  to  wear  a  dif- 
ferent aspect.  The  homely  charm  had  vanished.  Here, 
too,  shabbiness  and  poverty  stared  at  her.  The  morning 
light  streaming  through  the  great  high  window  showed  piti- 
lessly the  cracks  and  stains  and  missing  buttons  of  the  old 
leathern  suite,  and  the  ragged  holes  in  the  squares  of  old  car- 
pet laid  upon  the  boards.  It  was  a  mere  bleak  workshop, 
not  a  room  for  human  habitation.  The  pictures  on  the 
walls  and  easels  ceased  to  possess  decorative  or  even  inti- 

34* 


A  Dinner  of  Herbs 

mate  value.  The  large  picture  of  the  faun  that  had  exer- 
cised so  great  an  influence  upon  her  had  been  despatched 
to  its  purchaser,  and  in  its  place  was  a  hopeless  gap. 

She  sat  down  in  her  accustomed  chair,  and  once  more 
strove  to  realise  the  future.  There  would  be  children 
who  would  need  her  care.  On  herself  would  all  the 
sordid  burdens  faH.  She  saw  herself  a  soured  woman, 
worn  with  the  struggle  to  make  ends  meet,  working  with 
her  hands  at  menial  tasks.  The  joy  of  Life  !  She  laughed 
mirthlessly. 

She  rose,  walked  restlessly  about  the  studio,  longing  for 
Jimmie  to  come  and  exorcise  the  devils  that  possessed  her. 
A  little  sharp  cry  of  distress  escaped  her  lips.  The  place 
echoed  like  a  vault,  and  she  felt  awfully  alone.  In  her 
nervous  tension  she  could  bear  it  no  longer.  She  went  up 
the  stairs  again  into  the  bare  hall.  On  the  pegs  hung  two 
or  three  discoloured  hats  and  an  old  coat.  Scarce  knowing 
whither  she  went,  she  entered  the  dining-room.  Luncheon 
had  been  laid.  A  freak  of  destiny  had  reproduced  the 
meal  of  which  Morland  had  spoken  at  Wiltshire  House  and 
of  which  last  night  had  revived  the  memory :  a  scrag  end 
of  cold  boiled  mutton,  blackened  and  shapeless,  with  the 
hard  suet  round  about  it ;  a  dried-up  heel  of  yellow  Ameri- 
can cheese ;  the  half  of  a  cottage  loaf.  The  table-cloth  — 
it  was  Friday  —  was  stained  with  a  week's  meals.  It  was 
coarse  in  texture,  old  and  thin  and  darned.  The  enamel  on 
the  plates  was  cracked,  the  hundred  tiny  fissures  showing  up 
dark  brown.  The  plate  on  the  forks  had  worn  off  in 
places,  disclosing  the  yellowish  metal  beneath.  The  tum- 
blers were  thick  and  common,  of  glass  scarcely  transparent. 
She  stared  helplessly  at  the  table.  Never  in  her  life  had 
she  seen  such  preparations  for  a  meal.  To  the  woman 

343 


Where  Love  Is 

always  daintily  fed,  daintily  environed,  it  seemed  squalor 
unspeakable. 

She  shrank  back  into  the  hall,  pressed  her  hands  to  her 
eyes,  looked  round,  as  if  to  search  for  some  refuge.  The 
stairs  met  her  eye.  She  had  never  seen  what  lay  above 
the  ground  floor  —  except  once,  on  the  memorable  evening 
when  Aline  had  fainted.  Suddenly  madness  seized  her  — 
an  insane  craving  to  spy  out  the  whole  nakedness  of 
the  house.  The  worn  stair-carpet  ended  at  the  first  land- 
ing. Then  bare  boards.  ,The  door  of  the  bathroom  was 
wide  open.  She  peeked  in.  The  ceiling  was  blackened 
with  gas  j  the  bath  cracked  and  stained  ;  the  appointments  as 
bare  as  those  in  a  workhouse.  Her  glance  fell  upon  a 
battered  tin  dish  holding  an  uncompromising  cube  of 
yellow  soap  with  hard  sharp  edges.  She  withdrew  her 
head  and  shut  the  doof  hurriedly.  Another  door  stood 
ajar.  She  pushed  it  open  and  entered.  It  was  the  front 
bedroom  —  inhabited  by  Jimmie.  The  thought  that  it 
would  be  her  own,  which  a  fortnight  before  might  have 
clothed  her  in  delicious  confusion,  chilled  her  to  the  bone. 
Bare  boards  again ;  a  strip  of  oil-cloth  by  the  narrow  cheap 
iron  bedstead ;  a  painted  deal  table  with  a  little  mirror  and 
the  humblest  of  toilette  equipments  laid  upon  it ;  a  painted 
deal  chest  of  drawers  with  white  handles  ;  a  painted  deal 
wash-stand ;  a  great  triangular  bit  broken  out  of  the  mouth 
of  the  ewer. 

It  was  poverty — grinding,  sordid,  squalid  poverty.  From 
the  one  dishevelled,  slatternly,  middle-aged  servant  to  the 
cheap  paper  peeling  off  the  wall  in  the  bedrooms,  all  she 
had  seen  was  poverty.  The  gathering  terror  of  it  burst  like 
a  thunderstorm  above  her  head.  Her  courage  failed  her 
utterly.  Like  a  creature  distracted,  she  rushed  downstairs 

344 


A  Dinner  of  Herbs 

and  fled  from  the  house.  She  walked  homewards  with  an 
instinctive  sense  of  direction.  Afterwards  she  had  little 
memory  of  the  portion  of  the  road  she  traversed  on  foot. 
She  moved  in  a  shuddering  nightmare.  All  the  love  in  the 
world  could  not  shed  a  glamour  over  the  nakedness  of  the 
existence  that  had  now  been  revealed  to  her  in  its  entire 
crudity.  She  could  not  face  it.  Other  women  of  gentle 
birth  had  forsaken  all  and  followed  the  men  they  loved ; 
they  had  loved  peasants  and  had  led  great-heartedly  the 
peasant's  life.  They  had  qualities  of  soul  that  she  lacked. 
Hideously  base,  despicably  cowardly  she  knew  herself  to 
be.  It  was  her  nature.  She  could  not  alter.  The  world 
of  graceful  living  was  her  world.  In  the  other  she  would 
die.  He  had  warned  her.  The  gipsy  faith  in  Providence 
had  made  him  regard  as  a  jest  what  would  be  to  her  a 
sordid  shift,  an  intolerable  ugliness,  stripping  life  of  its 
beauty.  The  passion-flower  could  not  thrive  in  the  hedge 
with  the  dog-rose.  It  was  true  —  mercilessly  true.  The 
craving  of  last  night  awoke  afresh,  imperiously  insistent. 
She  walked  blindly,  tripped,  and  nearly  fell.  A  subcon- 
scious self  hailed  a  passing  hansom  and  gave  the  address. 
What  would  become  of  her  she  knew  not.  She  thought 
wildly  of  suicide  as  the  only  possible  escape.  From  her 
own  world  she  was  outcast.  Its  gates  were  barred  with 
gold  and  opened  but  to  golden  keys.  She  was  penniless. 
In  this  other  world  she  would  die.  Love  could  not  pre- 
vent her  starving  on  its  diet  of  herbs.  She  clung  to  life, 
to  the  stalled  ox,  and  recked  little  of  the  hatred ;  but  at  the 
banquet  she  no  longer  had  a  seat.  She  had  said  she  would 
follow  him  in  rags  and  barefoot  over  the  earth.  She  had 
not  fingered  the  rags  when  she  had  made  the  senseless  vow  ; 
she  had  not  tried  her  tender  feet  on  the  stones.  She  could 

345 


Where  Love  Is 

have  shrieked  with  terror  at  the  prospect.  There  was  no 
way  out  but  death. 

The  Garden  of  Enchantment  faded  from  her  mind  like 
a  forgotten  dream.  The  sweet  Arcadian  make-believe 
alone  rose  up  in  ironical  mockery,  a  scathing  memory 
which  seemed  to  flay  the  living  heart  of  her.  She  sat 
huddled  together  in  a  corner  of  the  cab,  tortured  and 
desperate.  On  either  hand  hung  the  doom  of  death. 
In  the  one  case  it  would  be  lingering  :  the  soul  would 
die  first;  the  man  she  loved  would  be  tied  to  a  living 
corpse ;  she  would  be  a  devastating  curse  to  him  instead 
of  a  blessing.  In  the  other  she  could  leave  him  in  the 
fulness  of  their  unsullied  love.  The  years  that  the  locust 
hath  eaten  would  not  stretch  an  impassable  waste  between 
them.  In  his  sorrow  there  would  be  the  imperishable  sense 
of  beauty.  And  for  herself  the  quick  end  were  better. 

She  was  aroused  to  consciousness  of  external  things  by 
a  husky  voice  addressing  her  from  somewhere  above  her 
head.  The  cab  had  stopped  at  Connie's  house  in  Bryanston 
Square.  She  descended,  handed  to  the  man  the  first  coin  in 
her  purse  that  her  fingers  happened  to  grasp.  He  looked 
at  it,  said  that  he  was  sorry  he  had  not  change  for  a 
sovereign.  She  waved  her  hand  vaguely,  deaf  to  his  words. 
The  cabman,  with  a  clear  conscience,  whipped  up  his  horse 
smartly  and  drove  off. 

A  figure  on  the  doorstep  raised  his  hat. 

"  How  delightful  of  you  to  arrive  at  the  very  moment, 
Miss  Hardacre !  I  am  summoned  back  to  America.  I  sail 
to-morrow.  I  was  calling  on  the  chance  of  being  able  to 
bid  you  good-bye." 

Norma  collected  her  scattered  wits  and  recognised 
Theodore  Weever.  She  looked  at  him  full  in  the  eyes. 

346 


A  Dinner  of  Herbs 

Her  lips  were  parted;  her  breath  came  fast.  He  stretched 
out  his  hand  to  press  the  electric  button,  so  as  to  gain 
admittance  to  the  house.  She  touched  his  arm,  restraining 
his  action,  and  still  stared  at  him. 

"  Wait,"  she  said  at  last.  "  I  have  something  to  say 
to  you." 

"  I  am  honoured,"  he  replied  in  his  imperturbable  way. 

"  Have  you  found  your  decorative  wife,  Mr.  Weever  ?  " 

A  sudden  light  shone  lambently  in  his  pale,  expression- 
less blue  eyes. 

"  Am  I  to  understand  that  I  can  find  her  on  Mrs.  Deer- 
ing's  doorstep  ?  " 

"  If  you  look  hard  enough,"  said  Norma. 

He  took  her  hand  and  shook  it  with  the  air  of  a  man 
concluding  a  bargain. 

"  I  felt  sure  of  it,"  he  said.  "  I  intended  from  the  first 
to  marry  you.  I  shall  ever  be  your  most  devoted  servant." 

"  I  make  one  condition,"  she  said. 

"  Name  it." 

"You  don't  enter  this  house,  and  I  sail  with  you 
to-morrow." 

"  Certainly." 

"  What  tram  shall  I  catch  and  from  what  station  shall  I 
start  ?  " 

"  The  ten  o'clock  from  Waterloo." 

She  rang  the  bell. 

"  May  I  trouble  you  to  book  my  passage  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  my  happiness." 

"  Au  revoir,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand. 

He  raised  his  hat  and  walked  away  briskly.  The  doo» 
opened,  and  Norma  entered  the  house. 


347 


Chapter  XXVIII 

THE   WORD    OF  ALINE 

WHAT  she  wrote  to  him  is  no  great  matter. 
Her  letter,  which  he  opened  on  coming  down 
to  breakfast  the  next  morning,  filled  many 
pages.  It  was  a  rhapsody  of  passionate  love  and  self- 
abasement,  with  frantic  appeals  for  forgiveness.  In  its 
cowardice  there  was  something  horribly  piteous.  Jimmie 
read  it  beneath  the  high  north  window  of  the  studio,  his 
back  turned  towards  Aline,  who  was  seated  at  the  breakfast- 
table  at  the  other  end.  For  a  long,  long  while  he  stood 
there,  quite  still,  holding  the  letter  in  his  hand.  Aline,  in 
wonder,  stole  up  quietly  and  touched  his  arm.  When  he 
turned,  she  saw  that  his  face  was  ashen-grey,  like  a  dead 
man's. 

The  shock  left  its  mark  upon  him.  Physically  it  accom- 
plished the  work  of  ten  years,  wiping  the  youth  from  his 
face  and  setting  in  its  stead  the  seal  of  middle  age.  It  is 
common  enough  for  grief  or  illness  to  lay  its  hand  on  the 
face  of  a  woman  no  longer  young  and  shrivel  up  her 
beauty  like  a  leaf  and  set  her  free,  old  and  withered.  But 
with  a  man,  who  has  no  such  beauty  to  be  marred,  the 
case  is  rare. 

For  a  week  he  remained  silent.  The  two  women  who 
loved  him  waited  in  patience  until  the  time  should  come 
for  their  comforting  to  be  of  use.  From  the  very  first 
morning  he  let  no  change  appear  in  his  habits,  but  set  his 

348 


The  Word  of  Aline 

palette  as  usual  and  went  on  with  the  new  picture  that 
was  nearing  completion.  In  the  afternoon  he  went  for 
a  walk.  Aline,  going  down  to  the  studio,  happened  to  look 
at  his  morning's  work.  For  a  moment  she  was  puzzled  by 
what  she  saw,  for  she  was  familiar  with  his  methods. 
Gradually  the  solution  dawned  upon  her.  He  had  been 
painting  meaninglessly,  incoherently,  putting  in  splotches 
of  colour  that  had  no  relation  to  the  tone  of  the  picture, 
crudely  accentuating  outlines,  daubing  here,  there,  and  any- 
where with  an  aimless  brush.  It  was  the  work  of  a  child 
or  a  drunken  man.  Aline  cast  herself  on  the  model-plat- 
form and  cried  till  she  could  cry  no  more.  When  he  came 
back,  he  took  a  turpentine  rag  and  obliterated  the  whole 
picture.  For  days  he  worked  incessantly,  trying  in  vain 
to  repaint.  Nothing  would  come  right.  The  elementary 
technique  of  his  art  seemed  to  have  left  him.  Aline  strove 
to  get  him  away.  He  resisted.  He  had  to  do  his  day's 
work,  he  said. 

"  But  you  're  not  well,  dear,"  she  urged.  "  You  will 
kill  yourself  if  you  go  on  like  this." 

"  I  've  never  heard  of  work  killing  a  man,"  he  answered. 
Then  after  a  pause,  "  No.  It 's  not  work  that  kills." 

At  last  the  sleep  that  had  failed  him  returned,  and  he 
awoke  one  morning  free  from  the  daze  in  the  brain  against 
which  he  had  been  obstinately  struggling.  He  rose  and 
faced  the  world  again  with  clear  eyes.  When  Aline 
entered  the  studio  to  summon  him  to  lunch,  she  found  him 
painting  at  the  unhappy  picture  with  his  accustomed  sure- 
ness  of  touch.  He  leaned  back  and  surveyed  his  handi- 
work. 

"  It 's  going  to  be  magnificent,  is  n't  it  ?  What  a  bless- 
ing I  wiped  out  the  first  attempt  ! " 

349 


Where  Love  Is 

"Yes,  this  is  ever  so  much  better,  Jimmie,"  the  girl 
replied,  with  tears  very  near  her  eyes.  But  her  heart 
swelled  with  happy  relief.  The  aching  strain  of  the  past 
week  was  over.  She  had  dreaded  break-down,  illness,  and 
permanent  paralysis  of  his  faculties.  The  man  she  knew 
and  loved  had  seemed  to  be  dead  and  his  place  taken  by  a 
vacant-eyed  simulacrum.  Now  he  had  come  to  life  again, 
and  his  first  words  sounded  the  eternal  chord  of  hope  and 
faith. 

From  that  day  onwards  he  gave  no  sign  of  pain  or  pre- 
occupation. Only  the  stamp  of  middle  age  upon  his  face 
betrayed  the  suffering  through  which  he  had  passed.  He 
concerned  himself  about  Aline's  marriage.  Arrangements 
had  been  made  for  it  to  take  place  on  the  same  day  as  that 
•of  their  elders  —  a  day,  however,  that  Norma  had  never 
fixed.  The  recent  catastrophe  had  caused  its  indefinite 
postponement.  Aline  declared  herself  to  be  in  the  same 
position  as  before,  the  responsibility  of  the  beloved's  welfare 
being  again  thrust  upon  her  shoulders.  She  pleaded  with 
her  lover  for  delay,  and  young  Merewether,  disappointed 
though  he  was,  acquiesced  with  good  grace.  At  last 
Jimmie  called  them  before  him,  and  waving  his  old  briar- 
root  pipe,  as  he  spoke,  delivered  his  ultimatum. 

"  My  dear  children,"  said  he,  standing  up  before  them, 
as  they  sat  together  on  the  rusty  sofa,  "you  have  the 
two  greatest  and  most  glorious  things  in  a  great  and 
glorious  world,  youth  and  love.  Don't  despise  the  one 
and  waste  the  other.  Get  all  the  beauty  you  can  out  of 
life  and  you  '11  shed  it  on  other  people.  You  '11  shed  it  on 
me.  That 's  why  I  want  you  to  marry  as  soon  as  ever 
you  are  ready.  You  '11  let  me  come  and  look  at  you  some- 
times, and  if  you  are  happy  together,  as  God  grant  you  will 

35° 


The  Word  of  Aline 

be,  that  will  be  my  great  happiness  —  the  greatest  I  think 
that  earth  has  in  store  for  me.  I  have  stood  between  you 
long  enough  —  all  that  is  over.  I  shall  miss  my  little 
girl,  Tony.  I  should  be  an  inhuman  monster  if  I  did  n't. 
But  I  should  be  a  monster  never  before  imagined  by  a  dis- 
ordered brain  if  I  found  any  pleasure  in  having  her  here  to 
look  after  me  when  she  ought  to  be  living  her  life  in  ful- 
ness. And  that 's  the  very  end  of  the  matter.  I  speak 
selfishly.  I  can't  help  it.  I  have  a  great  longing  for  joy 
around  me  once  more.  Go  upstairs  and  settle  everything 
finally  between  you." 

When  they  had  gone,  he  sighed.  "  Yes,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "a  great  longing  for  joy  —  and  the  sound  of  the 
steps  of  little  children."  Then  he  laughed,  calling  himself 
a  fool,  and  went  on  with  his  painting. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards  Connie  Deering,  who  had  been 
a  frequent  visitor  since  Norma's  flight,  walked  into  the 
studio  while  Jimmie  was  working. 

"  Don't  let  me  disturb  you.  Please  go  on,"  she  cried 
in  her  bright,  airy  way.  "  If  you  don't,  I  '11  disappear. 
I  've  only  come  for  a  gossip." 

Jimmie  drew  a  chair  near  the  easel  and  resumed  his 
brush.  She  congratulated  him  on  the  picture.  It  was 
shaping  beautifully.  She  had  been  talking  about  it  last 
night  to  Lord  Hyston,  who  had  promised  to  call  at  the 
studio  to  inspect  it.  Lord  Hyston  was  a  well-known  buyer 
of  modern  work. 

"  He  is  stocking  a  castle  in  Wales,  which  he  never  goes- 
near,  with  acres  of  paint,"  she  said  encouragingly.  "  So  I 
don't  see  why  you  should  n't  have  a  look  in." 

"  Is  there  a  family  ghost  in  the  castle  ?  " 

"  I  believe  there  are  two  !  " 


Where  Love  Is 

"  That 's  a  blessing,"  said  Jimmie.  "  Some  one,  at  any 
rate,  will  look  at  the  pictures." 

She  watched  him  in  silence  for  a  minute  or  two.  Then 
she  came  to  the  important  topic. 

44  So  the  two  children  have  made  up  their  minds  at  last." 

44  Yes,  they  are  to  be  married  on  the  twenty-eighth  of 
May." 

44  Poor  young  things,"  said  Connie. 

44  Why  poor  ?  " 

44 1  don't  know,"  she  said  -with  a  sigh.  44  The  subject 
of  marriage  always  makes  me  sad  nowadays.  I  am  grow- 
ing old  and  pessimistic." 

"You  are  bewilderingly  youthful,"  replied  Jimmie. 

44  Do  you  know  how  old  I  am  ?  " 

44 1  have  forgotten  how  to  do  subtraction,"  he  said, 
thinking  of  his  own  age. 

"Yes.  Of  course  you  know.  It 's  awful.  And  Aline 
is  —  what  —  seventeen  ?  " 

44  Eighteen." 

44  You  '11  be  dreadfully  lonely  without  her." 

44  Lonely  ?  Oh,  no.  I  have  my  thoughts  —  and  my 
memories." 

She  looked  at  him  fleetingly. 

44 1  should  have  thought  you  would  wish  to  escape  from 
memories,  Jimmie." 

44  Why  should  I  ?  " 

44  4  The  sorrow's  crown  of  sorrows.'  " 

44  I  don't  believe  in  it,"  he  said,  turning  towards  her. 
44  What  has  been  has  been.  A  joy  that  once  has  been  is 
imperishable.  Remembering  happier  things  is  a  sorrow's 
crown  of  consolation.  Thank  God  !  I  have  had  them  to 
remember." 

3S2 


The  Word  of  Aline 

"Do you  think  she  is  finding  consolation  in  memories?" 

She  spoke  with  sudden  heat,  for  Norma's  conduct  had 
filled  her  heart  with  blazing  indignation. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Jimmie  dreamily,  after  a  pause.  "  But 
she  has  not  so  many  as  I.  She  loved  me  deeply.  She  had 
her  hour  —  but  I  had  my  day." 

"  If  I  were  you,  I  should  want  never  to  think  of  her 
again." 

"  Not  if  you  were  I,  my  dear  Connie,"  he  said  gently. 
"  If  either  of  us  was  in  the  wrong,  it  was  not  she." 

"  Rubbish,"  said  Mrs.  Deering. 

"  No.  It  is  the  truth.  She  was  made  for  kings'  palaces 
and  not  for  this  sort  of  thing.  I  knew  it  was  impossible 
from  the  first  —  but  the  joy  and  wonder  of  it  all  blinded  my 
eyes.  She  gave  me  the  immortal  part  of  herself.  It  is 
mine  for  all  eternity.  I  wrote  to  her  a  day  or  two  ago  — 
I  was  not  able  at  first.  I  could  not  sleep,  you  know ; 
something  seemed  to  have  gone  wrong  with  my  head." 

"  You  wrote  to  her  ?  " 

"  To  tell  her  not  to  be  unhappy  for  my  sake." 

"  And  you  have  forgiven  her  entirely  ?  " 

"  Since  our  love  is  unchanged,  how  could  I  do  other- 
wise ?  " 

"  But  she  has  gone  and  thrown  herself  into  the  arms  of 
another  man  —  and  such  a  man  !  "  said  Connie,  brusquely. 

A  quiver  of  pain  passed  over  his  face. 

"  Those  are  things  of  the  flesh  that  the  discipline  of  life 
teaches  a  man  to  subdue.  I  think  I  am  man  enough  fo; 
that.  The  others  are  things  of  the  spirit.  If  ever  woman 
loved  a  man,  she  loved  me.  I  thank  God,"  he  added  in  a 
low  voice,  "  that  she  realised  the  impossibility  before  we 
were  married." 

23  353 


Where  Love  Is 

"  So  do  I ;  devoutly,"  said  Connie. 

"  It  would  have  made  all  the  difference." 

"  Precisely,"  said  Connie. 

"  She  would  have  been  chained  hand  and  foot  to  an 
intolerable  existence.  She  would  have  fretted  and  pined. 
Her  life  would  have  been  an  infinite  burden.  Heaven's 
mercy  saved  her." 

u  I  was  n't  looking  at  it  from  her  point  of  view  at  all," 
exclaimed  Connie. 

"  Hers  is  the  only  one  from  which  one  can  look  at  it," 
he  answered  gravely. 

When  she  bade  him  good-bye  some  ten  minutes  later, 
she  did  not  withdraw  the  hand  which  he  held.  Her  forget- 
me-not  eyes  grew  pleading,  and  her  voice  trembled  a 
little. 

"I  wish  I  could  comfort  you,  Jimmie  —  not  only  now, 
but  in  the  lonely  years  to  come.  But  remember,  dear,  there 
is  nothing  on  earth  I  would  n't  give  you  or  do  for  you  — 
nothing  on  earth." 

It  was  not  till  long  afterwards  that  he  fully  comprehended 
the  meaning  of  her  words ;  and  then  she  herself  prettily 
vouchsafed  the  interpretation.  For  immediate  answer  he 
kissed  her  on  the  cheek  in  the  brotherly  fashion  in  which  he 
had  kissed  her  twice  before. 

"  What  greater  comfort,"  said  he,  tl  can  I  have  than  to 
hear  you  say  that  ?  I  am  a  truly  enviable  man,  Connie. 
Love  and  affection  are  showered  upon  me  in  full  measure. 
Life  is  very,  very  sweet." 

The  next  two  or  three  weeks  brought  pleasant  surprises 
which  strengthened  his  conviction.  One  by  one  old  friends 
sought  him  out,  and,  some  heartily,  others  shamefacedly, 
extended  to  him  the  hand  of  brotherhood.  His  evening  at 

354 


The  Word  of  Aline 

the  Langham  Sketch  Club  had  inaugurated  the  new  order 
of  things.  The  Frewen-Smiths,  whose  New  Year  party 
had  marked  the  epoch  between  child  and  woman  in  Aline's 
life,  invited  the  two  outcasts  to  dinner,  and  pointedly  signified 
that  they  were  the  honoured  guests.  Brother  artists  looked 
in  casually  on  Sunday  evenings.  Their  wives  called  upon 
Aline,  offering  congratulations  and  wedding-gifts.  A  lady 
whose  portrait  he  had  painted,  and  at  whose  house  he  had 
visited,  commissioned  him  to  paint  the  portraits  of  her  two 
children.  The  ostracism  had  been  removed.  How  this 
had  been  effected  Jimmie  could  not  conjecture  ;  and  Tony 
Merewether  and  Connie  Deering,  who  were  the  persons 
primarily  and  independently  responsible,  did  not  enlighten 
him.  By  Aline's  wedding-day  all  the  old  circle  had 
gathered  round  him,  and  a  whisper  of  the  true  story  had 
been  heard  in  Wiltshire  House. 

Thus  the  world  began  to  smile  upon  him,  as  if  to  make 
amends  for  the  anguish  it  could  not  remedy.  He  took  the 
smile  as  a  proof  of  the  world's  essential  goodness.  The 
great  glory  that  for  a  day  had  made  his  life  a  blaze  of 
splendour  had  faded ;  the  sun  in  his  heaven  had  been 
eternally  eclipsed.  But  the  lesser  glory  of  the  moon  and 
stars  remained  undimmed  ;  the  tenderness  of  twilight  lost 
no  tone  of  its  beauty.  He  stood  unshaken  in  his  faith, 
unchanged  in  himself —  the  strong,  wise  man  looking  upon 
the  earth  and  the  fulness  thereof  with  the  unclouded  eyes 
of  a  child. 

The  man  whom  he  had  most  loved,  the  woman  he  had 
most  worshipped,  had  each  failed  him,  had  each  brought 
upon  him  bitter  and  abiding  sorrow.  They  had  passed 
like  dead  folks  out  of  his  daily  life.  Yet  each  retained  in 
his  heart  the  once  inhabited  chambers.  They  were  dear 

355 


Where  Love  Is 

ghosts.  His  incurable  optimism  in  this  wise  brought  about 
its  consolation.  For  optimism  involves  courage  of  a  serene 
quality.  Aline,  with  her  swift  perception  of  him,  had 
the  opportunity  of  flashing  this  into  an  epigram.  There 
was  a  little  gathering  in  the  studio,  and  the  talk  ran  on 
personal  bravery.  Some  one  started  the  question  :  What 
would  the  perfectly  brave  man  do  if  attacked  unarmed  by  a 
man-eating  tiger  ? 

"  I  know  what  Jimmie  would  do,"  she  cried.  "  He 
would  try  to  pat  the  beast  on  the  head." 

There  was  laughter  over  the  girl's  unchallenged  cham- 
pionship, but  those  who  had  ears  to  hear  found  the  saying 
true. 

The  night  before  the  wedding  the  two  sat  up  very  late, 
spending  their  last  hours  together,  and  Aline  sat  like  a  child 
on  Jimmie's  knee  and  sobbed  on  his  breast.  The  lover 
seemed  a  far-away  abstraction,  a  malevolent  force  rather  than 
a  personality,  that  was  tearing  her  away  from  the  soil  in 
which  her  life  was  rooted.  Jimmie  stroked  her  hair  and 
spoke  brave  words.  But  he  had  not  realised  till  then  the 
wrench  of  parting.  Till  then,  perhaps,  neither  had  real- 
ised the  strength  of  the  bond  between  them.  They  were 
both  fervent  natures,  who  felt  intensely,  and  their  mutual 
affection  had  been  a  vital  part  of  their  lives.  If  bright 
and  gallant  youth  had  not  flashed  across  the  girl's  path 
and,  after  the  human  way,  had  not  caught  her  wonder- 
ing maidenhood  in  strong  young  arms ;  if  deeper  and 
more  tragic  passion  had  not  swept  away  the  mature  man, 
it  is  probable  that  this  rare,  pure  love  of  theirs  might  have 
insensibly  changed  into  the  greater  need  one  of  the  other, 
and  the  morrow's  bells  might  have  rung  for  these  two. 
But  as  it  was,  no  such  impulse  stirred  their  exquisite  re- 

356 


The  Word  of  Aline 

lationship.  They  were  father  and  daughter  without  the 
barrier  of  paternity  ;  brother  and  sister  without  the  ties  of 
consanguinity  ;  lovers  without  the  lovers'  throb ;  intimate, 
passionate  friends  with  the  sweet  and  subtle  magic  of  the 
sex's  difference. 

"  I  can't  bear  leaving  you,"  she  moaned.  "  I  can't  bear 
leaving  the  dear  beautiful  life.  I  '11  think  of  you  every 
second  of  every  minute  of  every  hour  sitting  here  all  alone, 
alone.  I  don't  want  to  go.  If  you  say  the  word  now,  I  '11 
remain  and  it  shall  be  as  it  has  been  for  ever  and  ever." 

"  I  shall  miss  you  —  terribly,  my  dear,"  said  he.  "  But 
I  '11  be  the  gainer  in  the  end.  You  '11  give  me  Tony  as  a 
sort  of  younger  brother.  I  am  getting  to  be  an  old  man, 
darling — and  soon  I  shall  find  the  need  of  ks  jeunes  in  my 
painting  life.  You  can't  understand  that  yet.  Tony  will 
bring  around  me  the  younger  generation  with  new  enthusi- 
asms and  fresh  impulses.  It  is  to  my  very  great  good,  dear. 
And  if  God  gives  you  children,  I  '11  be  the  only  grandfather 
they  '11  ever  have,  poor  things,  and  I  'd  like  to  have  a  child 
about  me  again.  I  have  experience.  I  have  washed  your 
chubby  face  and  hands,  moi  qui  vous  parle,  and  undressed  you 
and  put  you  to  bed,  my  young  lady  who  is  about  to  be 
married." 

"  Oh,  Jimmie,  I  remember  it  —  and  I  had  to  tell  you 
how  to  do  everything." 

"  It  seems  the  day  before  yesterday,"  said  Jimmie. 
"  Eheufugaces  !  " 

The  next  day  when  she  in  her  wedding-dress  (a  present 
from  Connie  Deering)  walked  down  the  aisle  on  her 
husband's  arm  and  stole  a  shy  glance  at  him,  radiant, 
full  of  the  promise  and  the  pride  of  manhood,  and  met  the 
glad  love  in  his  eyes,  she  forgot  all  else  in  the  throbbing 

357 


Where  Love  Is 

joy  of  her  young  life's  completion.  It  was  only  afterwards 
when  she  was  changing  her  dress,  with  Connie  Deering's 
assistance,  in  her  own  little  room,  that  she  became  again 
conscience-str'cken. 

"  You  will  look  after  Jimmie  while  I  am  away,  won't 
you  ?  "  she  asked  tragically  —  they  were  going  to  the  Isle 
of  Wight  for  their  honeymoon. 

"  I  would  look  after  him  altogether  if  he  would  let  me," 
said  Connie,  in  an  abrupt,  emotional  little  outburst. 
Aline  drew  a  quick  breath. 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Connie  threw  the  simple  travelling-hat,  whose  feathers 
she  was  daintily  touching,  upon  the  bed. 

"  What  do  you  think  I  mean  ? "   she  laughed  nervously. 
"  I  'm  not  an   old  woman.     I  'm  as  lonely  as  Jimmie  will 
be  —  and—  " 
"  What  ?  " 

u  Oh  !  —  only  I  've  found  out  that  I  love  Jimmie  as 
much  as  a  silly  woman  can  love  anybody,  if  it 's  any 
satisfaction  to  you  to  know  it  —  and  you  may  be  quite  sure 
I  '11  see  that  no  harm  comes  to  him  during  your  honey- 
moon, dear." 

The  ensuing  conversation  nearly  caused  the  bride  to  miss 
her  train.  But  no  bride  ever  left  her  girlhood's  room  more 
luminously  happy.  On  the  threshold  she  turned  and  threw 
her  arms  round  Connie  Deering's  neck. 

"  I  '11  arrange  it  all  when  I  come  back,"  she  whispered. 
And  Aline  kept  her  word. 

THE    F.ND 


358 


A  FEW  OF 

GROSSET  &   DUNLAP'S 
Great  Books  at  Little  Prices 

NEW.  CLEVER,  ENTERTAINING. 

GRET:    The  Story  of  a  Pagan.    By  Beatrice  Mantle.    Illustrated 
by  C.  M.  Relyea. 


vention. 

OLD  CHESTER  TALES.  By  Margaret  Deland.  Illustrated 
by  Howard  Pyle. 

A  vivid  yet  delicate  portrayal  of  characters  in  an  old  New  England  town. 

Dr.  Lavendar's  fine,  kindly  wisdom  is  brought  to  bear  upon  the  lives  of 
all,  permeating  the  whole  volume  like  the  pungent  odor  of  pine,  healthful 
and  life  giving.  "  Old  Chester  Tales  "  will  surely  be  among  the  books  that 
^bide. 

THE  MEMOIRS  OF  A  BABY.  By  Josephine  Daskam.  Illus- 
trated by  F.  Y.  Cory. 

The  dawning  intelligence  of  the  baby  was  grappled  with  by  its  great  aunt, 
an  elderly  maiden,  whose  book  knowledge  ofbabies  was  something  at  which 
even  the  infant  himself  winked.  A  delicious  bit  of  humor. 

REBECCA  MARY.     By  Annie  Hamilton  Donnell.     Illustrated 

by  Elizabeth  Shippen  Green. 

The  heart  tragedies  of  this  little  girl  with  no  one  near  to  share  them,  are 
told  with  a  delicate  art,  a  keen  appreciation  of  the  needs  of  the  childish 
heart  and  a  humorous  knowledge  of  the  workings  of  the  childish  mind. 

THE  FLY  ON  THE  WHEEL.    By  Katharine  Cecil  Thurston. 

Frontispiece  by  Harrison  Fisher. 

An  Irish  story  of  real  power,  perfect  in  development  and  showing  a  true 
conception  of  the  spirited  Hibernian  character  as  displayed  in  the  tragic  as 
well  as  the  tender  phases  of  life. 

THE  MAN  FROM  BRODNEY'S.  By  George  Barr  McCutcheoru 
Illustrated  by  Harrison  Fisher. 

An  island  in  the  South  Sea  is  the  setting  for  this  entertaining  tale,  and 
an  all-conquering  hero  and  a  beautiful  princess  figure  in  a  most  complicated 
plot.  One  of  Mr.  McCutche.  n's  best  books.. 

TOLD  BY  UNCLE  REMUS.  By  Joel  Chandler  Harris.  Illus- 
trated by  A.  B.  Frost,  J.  M.  Conde  and  Frank  Verbeck, 

Again  Uncle  Remus  enters  the  fields  of  childhood,  and  leads  another 
little  boy  to  that  non-locatable  land  called  "  Brsr   Rabbit's   Laughing 
'Place,"  and  again  the  quaint  animals  spring  into  active  life  and  play  their 
parts,  for  the  edification  of  a  small  but  appreciative  audience. 
THE  CLIMBER.    By  fc.  F.  Benson.     With  frontispiece. 

An  unsparing  analysis  of  an  ambitious  woman's  soul— a  woman  who 

believed  that  in  social  supremacy  she  would  find  happiness,  and  who  finds 

instead  the  utter  despair  of  one  who  has  chosen  the  things  that  pass  away. 

LYNCH'S  DAUGHTER.    By  Leonard  Merrick.    Illustrated  by 

Geo.  Brehm. 

A  story  of  to-day,  telling  how  a  rich  girl  acquires  ideals  of  beautiful  and 
simple  living,  and  of  men  and  love,  quite  apart  from  the  teachings  of  her 
father,  "  Old  Man  Lynch  "TofJWall  St.  True  to  life,  clever  in  treatment 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.  ,  NEW  YORK 


GROSSET  &   DUNLAP'S 

DRAMATIZED  NOVELS 

A  Few  that  are  Making  Theatrical  History 

MARY  JANE'S  PA.    By  Norman  Way.    Illustrated  with  scene* 
.       from  the  play. 

Delightful,  irresponsible  "  Mary  Jane's  Pa  "  awakes  one  morning  to  fir* 
himself  famous,  and,  genius  being  ill  adapted  to  domestic  loys,  he  wander.-/ 
from  home  to  work  out  his  own  unique  destiny.  One  of  the  most  hu  morou. 
bits  of  recent  fiction. 

CHERUB  DEVINE.    By  Sewell  Ford. 

"  Cherub,"  a  good  hearted  but  not  over  refined  young  man  is  brought  m 
touch  with  the  aristocracy.  Of  sprightly  wit,  he  is  sometimes  a  merciless 
analyst,  but  he  proves  in  the  end  that  manhood  counts  for  more  than  anci 
ent  lineage  by  winning  the  love  of  the  fairest  girl  in  the  Sock. 

A  WOMAN'S  WAY.     By  Charles  Somerville.    Illustrated  with 

scenes  from  the  play. 

A  story  in  which  a  woman's  wit  and  self-sacrificing  love  save  her  husband 
from  the  toils  of  an  adventuress,  and  change  an  apparently  tragic  situation 
into  one  of  delicious  comedy. 

THE  CLIMAX.    By  George  C.  Jenks. 

With  ambition  luring  her  on,  a  young  choir  soprano  leaves  the  little  village 
where  she  was  born  and  the  limited  audience  of  St.  Jude's  to  train  for  the 
opera  in  New  York.  She  leaves  love  behind  her  andmeets  love  more  ardent 
but  not  more  sincere  in  her  new  environment.  How  she  works,  how  she 
studies,  how  she  suffers,  are  vividly  portrayed. 

A  FOOL  THERE  WAS.     By  Porter  Emerson  Browne.     Illus- 
trated by  Edmund  Magrath  and  W.  W.  Fawcett. 

A  relentless  portrayal  of  the  career  of  a  man  who  comes  under  the  influence 
of  a  beautiful  but  evil  woman:  how  she  lures  him  on  and  on,  how  he 
struggles,  falls  and  rises,  only  to  fall  again  into  her  net,  make  a  story  of 
unflinching  realism. 

THE  SQUAW  MAN.     By  Julie  Opp  Faversham  and  Edwin 

Milton  Royle.    Illustrated  with  scenes  from  the  play. 
A  glowing  story,  rapid  in  action,  bright  in  dialogue  with  a  fine  courageous 
hero  and  a  beautiful  English  heroine. 

THE  GIRL  IN  WAITING.     By  Archibald  Eyre.     Illustrated 

with  scenes  from  the  play. 

A  droll  little  comedy  of  misunderstandings,  told  with  a  light  touch,  a  ven- 
turesome spirit  and  an  eye  for  human  oddities. 

THE   SCARLET   PIMPERNEL.     By  Baroness  Orczy.     Hlu» 

trated  with  scenes  from  the  play. 

A  realistic  story  of  the  days  of  the  French  Revolution,  abounding  in 
dramatic  incident,  with  a  young  English  soldier  of  fortune,  daring,  mysteri- 
ous as  the  hero. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


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MOV  v  1  1991 


2  WKSTOM  DATE 


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